“Oh, because his alien is so much more convincing?”
“Touché.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders when she falls into me, holding her close as we both succumb to our laughter. So what if I sniff her hair?
“You’re not wrong with your reasoning,” she says when we finally catch our breath. “To this day, I can’t watch a movie with a shark or water creature without lifting my feet from the ground.”
“I do that too.” My confirmation has her squeezing my side.
“But I think my irrational fear comes more from watching all the movies with my cousins on my tia’s waterbed than the movies themselves.”
“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “Tactical error, Red.”
“I know.”
We stay like that, with her snuggled against my side, neither of us in a hurry to move or start our next game. The casual cuddle isn’t anything I haven’t done with Kay or Emma, but with Quinn, it feels different. I can’t help but wonder if I just made a tactical error of my own.
#CHAPTER13
* * *
The sound of running water calls me to the closed bathroom door like a siren luring sailors to their doom.
Again, I find myself standing in front of it, my cheek pillowed against the wood without my permission.
Mierda.
This shit needs to stop. Crazy is not a good look on me.
I can’t help it, though. The periodic interruptions to the steady stream keep putting all kinds of naughty visions in my brain. I wonder if this is how Harry Potter felt when Snape used Legilimency on him.
Back away from the door, Quinn.
Hands curling into fists, knuckles digging into the wood, I forcibly shove myself away before I barge into the bathroom. Imagining what CK looks like in the shower—dark hair slicked tight to his head, water sluicing down his body, soap bubbles catching on the ridges of muscle he keeps hidden—is bad enough. I doubt I would survive witnessing it in person.
Not to mention walking in without knocking would make you a Creeper McCreeperson, and that’s putting it nicely. There is this thing called consent—it’s kind of important.
Distraction. I need a distraction.
Shoving away from temptation, I all but run to the living room, diving onto the couch and rolling across the cushions like I’m some extra in an action movie and not just a cheerleader on edge.
Universal remote in hand, I slam my thumb onto the volume button until the sexy bouncing beat of Ed Sheeran’s “Shivers” drowns out any sound of CK in the shower. Arms swaying and rolling, I dance them up my sides, clasping my hands together over my head, my hips joining in on the action as I settle into the rhythm.
Dancing around to music is one of my happy places, and I’m going to need all the help I can get if I want to keep myself from taking a trip to Broodyville later.
Unlike when CK went on a date last week, I don’t feel nearly as woe is me about tonight. I don’t know if it’s knowing it was coming instead of being blindsided or if it stems from the role I helped play in it coming to fruition, but I’m not going to complain.
Not even all the I told you sos Tessa singsonged during the Marshals cheer practice this afternoon bothered me. Chick was spot-on in her advice. I may need to borrow a few of her romance novels for research purposes.
What would CK say if he knew his love coach had one of her own?
Whatevs.
CK and I have been bonding, and I take that as a win.
Though…
Does it make me an ass for hoping tonight’s date illustrates how true that is for CK too? Asking for a friend. *whispers* That friend is me.
If it does, let’s pretend I’m not hoping for that, at least for the sake of my karmic balance. I know how much of a bitch karma can be, and I don’t need to face her wrath.
“Now, that’s a damn sight better to walk in on than Noah balls-deep in some rando.” The deep boom of Kev’s voice has me whirling around, my dance moves stuttering at the unexpected return of two of our roommates.
“You got that fucking right, brother.” Alex claps him on the back, his face pulled into a grimace. “I think the image of his pale white-boy ass thrusting like an overeager Chihuahua is permanently burned into my brain.” He digs his fingers into his temples, the paper bag in his hand bouncing off his forearm as his eyes squeeze shut. “I’ll be on my deathbed, senile and unable to remember my own name, but I’ll have that vision playing on a loop.”
“What are you guys doing here?” I rush them with a flying leap, jumping onto Kev at the same time the bathroom door opens.
With me still wrapped in his beefy lineman arms, Kev moves across the apartment until we’re in front of CK, who’s standing awkwardly in the doorway, dressed and ready for his…date.
“CK, my dude.” Alex reaches out the hand not holding the grease-stained bag, and the two share this weird, complicated bro-shake. Alex steps back, his head tilting to the side as he studies CK’s face. “I’ll never get used to seeing you without your glasses, bro.”
Patting Kev so he’ll put me down, I unwind my legs from around his waist and skirt around Alex’s equally as tall but not as bulky frame until I’m standing toe to toe with CK.
The fresh scent of evergreen tickles my nostrils, and I caution myself not to lean in and sniff him. Ugh! He smells as yummy as he looks.
Except…
Where are his glasses?
“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” I ask, after scanning his body from head to toe a second time.
CK looks away, refusing to meet my eye like I’ve noticed he does any time he feels embarrassed by something. I yearn for the day when he feels comfortable enough to not give a fuck with me.
Not giving a damn about our audience, I pinch CK’s chin between my fingers and bring his gaze back to mine. “Superman…” I give him the same eyebrow arch my mom gives me when she’s waiting for an answer.
It works. CK blows out a breath then says, “I thought it helped make me seem a little less geeky without them.”
My brows draw together. Why the hell would that be his worry for someone he met on an app named Greet Geek?
Wait…scratch that. Who the hell cares?
Rolling my eyes at the absurdity, I shoulder past him and hunt for his glasses case. Spotting it on the counter, I snap open the lid and take out the black frames.
Alex and Kev are posted on either side of the archway leading back to the open-concept living space when I emerge from the bathroom. They’re leaning against the wall, settled in as if they’re about to watch a show. Again I ignore them.
Carefully unfolding the thin plastic arms, I flip the glasses around until they’re facing CK and step a foot between his.
He sucks in a breath, his chest brushing mine as I move in even closer. It doesn’t matter that he lets me invade his personal space on a daily basis; my girly bits shake their pom-poms any time we get all up close and personal with him.
My fingertips brush across the clipped hair of his sideburns before they skim along the top curves of his ears as I line his glasses up with his face.
His eyes remain locked on me the whole time, those blue pools burning me in their intensity. It’s hard to swallow as I crest the tip of his nose and slide the glasses home.