“Why don’t you defend yourself against the rumors if they aren’t true?”
He turns his head toward me on the pillow. “Why don’t you?”
I purse my lips together and nod. “Touché.”
We both sit quietly on the bed eating our cookies. Some of the things he’s said over the past few days are starting to make sense, and I begin to feel more and more like the people I despise. He told me outright that he would answer anything if I just asked, yet I chose to believe the rumors about him instead. No wonder he was so irritated with me. I was treating him just like everyone else treats me.
“The window comment from earlier?” I say. “You were just making a point about rumors? You really weren’t trying to be mean?”
“I’m not mean, Sky.”
“You’re intense. I’m right about that, at least.”
“I may be intense, but I’m not mean.”
“Well, I’m not a slut.”
“I’m not a gay bashing asshole.”
“So we’re all clear?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I inhale a deep breath, then exhale, preparing to do something I don’t do very often. Apologize. If I wasn’t so stubborn, I might even admit that my judgmental behavior this week was completely mortifying and he had every right in the world to be angry with me for being so ignorant. Instead, I keep the apology short and sweet.
“I’m sorry, Holder,” I say quietly
He sighs heavily. “I know, Sky. I know.”
And we sit like this in complete silence for what seems like forever but also doesn’t feel like near long enough. It’s getting late and I’m afraid he’s about to say he needs to leave because there’s nothing else to say, but I don’t want him to. It feels right, being here with him now. I don’t know why, but it just does.
“I need to ask you something,” he says, finally breaking the silence. I don’t respond, because it doesn’t feel like his statement is waiting for a response. He’s just taking one of his moments to prepare whatever it is he wants to ask me. He takes a breath, then rolls over onto his side to face me. He tucks his elbow under his head and I can feel him looking at me, but I keep staring at the stars. He’s way too close for me to look at him right now, and by the way my heart is already pounding against my chest, I’m afraid moving any closer will physically kill me. It doesn’t seem possible that lust can cause a heart to take this much of a beating. It’s worse than running.
“Why were you letting Grayson do what he was doing to you in the parking lot?”
I want to crawl under my covers and hide. I was hoping this wouldn’t come up. “I already told you. He’s not my boyfriend and he’s not the one who gave me the black eye.”
“I’m not asking because of any of that. I’m asking because I saw how you reacted. You were irritated with him. You even looked a little bored. I just want to know why you allow him to do those things if you clearly don’t want him touching you.”
His words throw me for a loop and I’m suddenly feeling claustrophobic and sweaty. I don’t feel comfortable talking about this. It makes me uneasy how he reads me so well, yet I can’t read him for anything.
“My lack of interest was that obvious?” I ask.
“Yep. And from fifty yards away. I’m just surprised he didn’t take the hint.”
This time I turn to face him without thinking, and tuck my elbow under my head. “I know, right? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned him down but he just doesn’t stop. It’s really pathetic. And unattractive.”
“Then why do you let him do it?” he says, eyeing me sharply. We’re in a compromising position right now, facing each other on the same bed. The way he’s staring at me and dropping his eyes to my lips prompts me to roll onto my back again. I don’t know if he feels the same, but he rolls onto his back, too.
“It’s complicated.”
“You don’t have to explain,” he says. “I was just curious. It’s really not my business.”
I tuck my hands behind my head and look up at the stars that I’ve counted more times than I can count. I’ve been in this bed with Holder longer than I’ve probably been in this bed with any boy, and it occurs to me that I haven’t felt the need to count a single star.
“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”
“Yep,” he says. “But I hope you aren’t about to ask for details, because I don’t go there.”