Daydream (Maple Hills, #3)(69)

“You broke a rule!” I squeak, flustered by being carried like I weigh nothing. “The same one you always break!”

“Tell it to the board, Captain.”

I point toward the door that’s slightly ajar. “That’s my room. You’re sleeping out here with the rest of the guys.”

Henry uses his back to push the door open properly and walks until he can place me gently on my bed. He crosses his arms and grips the bottom of his T-shirt, slowly pulling it over his head. It lands on the bed next to me. “We both know I’m not.”

Desire and anxiety are fighting each other to be my most dominant feeling. Yes, I want to have a repeat of last time, but here? When we’ll have to rush and then spend the night hanging out with everyone? I’m not sure I’m there yet. Even the desire to do anything with someone is such a strange new thing for me.

“Henry…” I say, hating how meek my voice sounds, pushing myself up onto my forearms to look at him properly.

“I know what you want, Halle. Do you trust me?” I nod. “Good. Close your eyes.”

I should tell him that I’m unsure, but I’m also curious to see what happens. It’s different from how things have been in the past; my anxiety is rooted in being nervous about the unknown. It is, at its core, excitement as much as it’s apprehension.

Henry doesn’t touch me when my eyes flutter shut. I hear him move around the room and the sound of a zip, followed by more shuffling. My heartbeat doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be doing and he still hasn’t done anything to me.

“Open your eyes, Halle,” he says gently.

Taking a deep, and hopefully discreet, breath, I slowly open my eyes.

And immediately burst into laughter.

“I feel like a marshmallow,” he says, looking down at the satin pajamas he’s now wearing.

The small sense of relief I feel confuses me more than anything. “Baby pink suits you.”

Henry pulls the hem of the shirt and shakes his head. I love that his name is embroidered above the chest pocket just like his Titans T-shirts. “Everything suits me. It doesn’t mean I should wear it.”

“Your modesty is my favorite thing about you,” I tease. I sit up fully to get a view of the entire vision, and he really does look cute in pink.

“What’s the point of me being modest when I look good in everything I put on?” Taking a step toward me, he grips my knees to pull me to the edge of the bed, stepping between my legs. “I look good in nothing, too. I don’t think that’s something you want to find out when people will be arriving soon.”

It feels like a question and a confirmation that he understands me all in one.

“I would really like for you to prove your claim,” I challenge, immediately regretting my confidence when his hands drop to the waistband of his pants. Holding my hands out in front of me in some kind of dramatic protest, I squeak, “Just not today!”

“I know. I’m trying really hard to know, Halle. I’m paying attention to everything so I can get things right with you.” Henry takes my outstretched hands and links them at the back of his neck, getting even closer to me. He kisses my forehead, then the tip of my nose, before moving away enough for me to see his face fully. “Just because we did something once doesn’t mean we have to do it again or somewhere you’re not comfortable.”

“I know. Seriously, I do know that, and I understand the whole continuous consent thing. I just”—don’t know how to word this?—“haven’t had the experience of someone making me feel like this. The experience of wanting the experience is a new experience for me, y’know? So the nerves of not having experience but wanting it is taking up a lot of head space.”

Does he know? Do I even know? I definitely don’t know.

“All I got from that is I’m so great at giving you experiences that you’re having experiences on experiences on experiences. I want to understand you. Can you explain in a different way? Sometimes it’s hard for me to read between the lines. You’re better off just telling me directly.” I love that he cares so much about understanding me. “Maybe break it down into different points. Start with the first thing you said.”

I’m very aware that if I’m grown-up enough to want sex, I should be grown-up enough to talk about it, but boy do I want the ground to swallow me whole.

“I’ve never actively wanted someone the way I want you. I genuinely thought I was broken in some way for a really long time. I know I’m not, but that’s how I was made to feel, and it was hard to unlearn. So that’s the first new experience.”

“Will didn’t make you horny? But I do?” Henry says, a definite hint of smugness to his tone. “Your first new experience is horniness?”

Why did he have to word it like that? “Correct.”

“What’s next?”

“I’m also experiencing wanting to do something about wanting you. Things were good with me and Will for the first few weeks of our relationship—stop grimacing when I bring him up, please—but I still never had the urge to do anything further than kissing. I do now with you, but I also don’t know where the boundaries are. Like, what’s out-of-bounds for our friendship? The last time I started kissing my friend he became my boyfriend, and we both know how that turned out. I know you haven’t dated anyone, but what if the label is what made it go wrong? I kind of like having no expectations.”