Leonardo DiCaprio’s face is huge across the screen, elegant in a tuxedo, his golden hair swept to the side.
“Ready to play, just like I promised,” Crew says, and when he glances over at me, I smile.
“Push play then. I have to be back in my dorm by—” I check the time on his laptop. “A little over three hours.”
“You showed up early.”
“I was worried it would take me a while to walk over here. The sidewalks are getting slick.”
“It’s cold out there.”
“Nice and warm in here though.”
He says nothing. Just hits the space bar on his laptop and the movie starts playing. He holds it in his lap, angling it toward me and I give in to comfort, leaning my head against the pillows behind me, rolling on my side as I reach for the bag of popcorn. I tear it open, grabbing a handful before I hand it over to him, and we share it, occasionally dipping our hands inside at the same time, our fingers colliding. Tangling.
I’m achingly aware of his presence, and I can’t even concentrate on the movie, though Crew was right. It’s visually stunning, and I want to pay attention, but he’s a complete distraction.
He’s so close, I could reach out and touch him easily. I study his face, the way his hair falls over his forehead, and he keeps shoving it back. He smells fresh and clean, as if he took a shower before I arrived, and I’m half-tempted to bury my face in his neck, so I can inhale his scent.
Crew changes position, mimicking mine, resting his head on a stack of pillows and lying on his side. He sets the laptop in between us before he glances over at me to find I’m already watching him.
And I don’t look away. It’s like I can’t.
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there before he finally looks me in the eyes. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I whisper, my skin prickling with awareness when he reaches over and pushes my hair away from my face, his touch so gentle, I briefly close my eyes, savoring his closeness. The fact that I’m here with Crew. Just the two of us. Lying on his bed.
It goes against everything I’ve ever said. Every girl I’ve looked down upon for succumbing to a boy. How weak I thought they were.
Now I’m just as weak as them, and I understand.
I get it.
“Like you want me to kiss you,” he murmurs as he traces my jaw with his fingertips. “Open your eyes, Birdy.”
I do as he says, sucking in a breath when I see how close his face is to mine.
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, drifting his thumb across my bottom lip. “I thought you hated me.”
“I did,” I say with hesitation.
He smiles, the sight of it warming my insides. “I hated you too.”
“Why?” I’m genuinely curious. “I never did anything to you.”
“You came onto campus a complete stranger. No one knew who the hell you were, yet they all wanted to know you. Wanted to get closer to you, copy you, be your friend. It annoyed me.” A flash of irritation appears in his eyes, there and gone in an instant.
His words make me feel bad. Does he still feel that way about me? I didn’t like him because he would always glare at me. He scared me.
“I thought you were full of shit. No one could be that sweet, that nice, that beautiful. I figured you were hiding a dark, ugly secret.” He curls his fingers around my chin, tipping my head up. “But you’re not. You really are that sweet.”
I frown. “I’m not always sweet.”
“I know.” He leans in, his mouth barely touching mine. “Sometimes you’re dirty, aren’t you? You liked it when I had my fingers inside you.”
A shuddery breath leaves me and he kisses me again, his mouth lingering, his tongue sliding out for a teasing lick before he pulls away. “You were so wet.”
My cheeks go hot. It’s embarrassing, how he’s bringing up every mortifying detail of that afternoon.
“Wet for me,” he whispers into my mouth before he kisses me deep, his tongue thrusting, stroking against mine. He scoots closer, his foot kicking the laptop shut, cutting off the movie, so there’s nothing but silence in the room. The only sound is of our lips connecting. The rustle of clothing as he pulls me into him, a sigh falling from my lips when he kisses my throat.
“You drove me crazy in class today,” he admits against my neck.
I wrap my arms around him, daring to slip my hand beneath his sweatshirt, so I can touch his hot, bare skin. “How?”