He grunts, arms coming around my shoulders to press me close. “Fine, probably. I never have a bad test.” I know he’s not lying. He might have issues with behavior and actual, like, attendance. But school comes easier to Bass than it does to me.
I settle my cheek against his shoulder, suddenly feeling tired myself. “Nap.”
He hums, sounding like he’s already halfway there, his soft breaths warming the top of my head. This is probably my favorite place now—all alone with him, curled up against his body as his hand makes the little idle rubs against whatever part of me is closest. When he’s tired like this, his movements will slow, falter, before starting back up in a random bout of renewed vigor, like he’s fighting not to nod off.
When his hand finally goes still, breath evening out, I let my eyes close, wondering where we’re going to be in four months.
“Oops!” Startled awake at the sound, I turn my head to see Georgia in the doorway. I can tell from the light in the room that it’s almost dark outside now. She shifts her feet, eyes apologetic. “Need the room?”
I stretch my legs, yawning. “No, we just fell asleep for a bit. It’s all good.”
Looking relieved, she enters the room, closing the door behind her. “Thank god. I cannot handle anymore prom shit. The hourly texts from my mom about choosing a date are bad enough.”
Bass, still sound asleep, lets out a little whuff when I roll over. “Still no candidates?”
She wrinkles her nose, head shaking. “You’re lucky, snagging a Wilcox. My mom’s convinced I’m doomed to utter destitution unless I lock down someone rich and popular within the next month.” She rolls her eyes, flopping back into her bed. “George never has to deal with this crap.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Who’s George?”
She gives me a strange look. “Uh, my brother?”
I sit up, still feeling half asleep. “You have a brother?” I gawk at her. “Named George?”
“Duh.” She points to a photo on her desk of her and some guy, standing with bland smiles in front of a decked-out fireplace. “Twin brother.”
“Your twin?!” Sebastian stirs and I whirl around to him. He blinks up at me, looking momentarily confused. “Georgia has a twin brother named George?”
He chuffs a low laugh. “I know.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because,” he explains, pushing himself up. “It sounds so fucking ridiculous that you wouldn’t have believed it, anyway.”
Georgia rolls her eyes at him. “George is George. We don’t really hang in the same circles. Or squares. Or rectangles.”
Sebastian looks at me, translating, “He’s a loser.”
“Don’t call my brother a loser!” Georgia cries, throwing her pillow at him. “Only I’m allowed to call him a loser.” She looks at me, asserting. “He’s a loser.”
“Good to know.”
Sebastian stands, pulling on his shoes. “I’m going to go grab something to eat. Any takers?”
Georgia waves him off. “I already made Carlton buy me pizza.”
“I’m in,” I say, reaching for my own shoes.
“You still need to give me that list,” he suddenly says, still clearly blinking sleep from his eyes. “The film and shit?”
Ah, right. “I decided to just take a few rolls. I’ve got it covered.”
It’s a bit of a bummer, sure. A big part of the appeal of a huge summer road trip had been the ability to take a shit-ton of photos.
He pauses, throwing me a confused glance. “What? A few rolls isn’t going to even get you out of the state.”
Sighing, I explain, “I won’t be here next year, and I don’t know where I’ll be next year. I won’t have a way to develop them myself, so just…” I flick a hand dismissively. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll save up for a digital—” My mouth clamps shut at the sudden spark in his eyes. “No.”
“Let me buy you one,” he bursts, even though my head is already shaking. Fuck, big mistake. If there’s one thing Bass loves, it’s blowing truly absurd amounts of money. “Come on! I’ve been trying to get you into digital for weeks now.”
“No!” I say, voice firm. “It’s too much. I hate it when you buy me shit. You never just get me something sufficient, you always go over the fucking top!”
“One camera,” he insists, pulling my hands into his chest. “Maybe some lenses or whatever fancy bullshit comes with it. It can be a graduation present.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Hell no.”
He pulls me closer like he thinks I don’t know what he’s doing, those blue eyes blazing back at me, lashes fluttering. “Please?”
“Just how pretty do you think you are?”
His answer is immediate and unapologetic. “Devastatingly.”
Smoothly, I lie, “Not nearly.”
He takes my face in his palms, thumbs sweeping over my cheeks, which are totally not feeling hot and flushed from his devastatingly pretty anything. “Sugar,” he begins, eyes earnest. “I love your pictures. I love the thought of you being able to take them, without feeling like you have to ration resources. I love that you have a passion that will, most likely, earn you your own living some day, completely independent of anyone else. I love seeing shit through your eyes, because you always see it a little different from me, and that’s neat as fuck. I love the idea that I can help you do that, and with something that just so happens to come easier for me.” He presses a soft, slow kiss to my lips, finishing, “But most of all, I love you.”
I feel a little dazed when he pulls back. “Oh.” I blink heavy eyelids at him, tongue sneaking out to taste him on my lips.
Oh, he’s good.
Georgia’s voice snaps me from the trance. “For Christ’s sake, let him buy you a damn camera! You two make me want to hurl.” I throw her a hot glare, but she just rolls her eyes at me. “Boo hoo, my super rich boyfriend, who is totally hot and completely adores me, wants to buy me expensive things.” She scoffs. “Your problems are the first worldiest ever.”
Turning back to Sebastian, I release a defeated huff. Georgia has a point. “I’m only saying yes because I know if I don’t, you’re going to use that graduation present excuse to buy me something even more stupidly expensive.”
He plants another kiss on my lips, looking satisfied.
Satisfied and devastatingly cute.
“Where are you?” I mutter angrily, pacing back and forth in front of his door. I loop my thumbs into the straps of my bag and squeeze. I’d sent him three texts, but they all went unanswered. He’s been a lot less diligent about charging his phone since his dad began blowing it up regularly. Fucking inconvenient bullshit.
It’s a half an hour before I finally hear steps ascending across the hall, Sebastian finally coming into view.
“Where have you been?” I hiss, grabbing a handful of his shirt and tugging him toward the door. “I’ve been waiting forever.”
The question is unnecessary. Going off the way his hair is still wet, gym bag hanging from his hand, it’s already obvious. “I was at practice. Same time every Wednesday. You know this.”