You and Everything After (Falling #2)(28)
“I don’t know, Paige. I think I’m just going to hang with Ty,” I say, and she’s already shrugged and moved on. Well, that was easy.
“So, how’d it turn out?” I ask, sitting down next to Rowe on her bed. She startles when I do, and I realize she was listening to her music still. “Sorry,” I cringe.
“It’s okay. Had it up kind of loud,” she says, rolling the ear buds up in the cord and setting them to the side. “The room looks fantastic. They are going to flip their lids. Seriously, I took pictures.”
Rowe pulls out her phone, and we scroll through half a dozen shots of a room that looks like it has been hosed down with Pepto-Bismol. I’m kind of proud, actually. “Wow, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” I say, handing her back her phone. She studies the image left on the screen for another second, and then looks back at me.
“Yeah, me too,” she laughs.
Rowe is still going through the books on her bed. I move back to mine and open my backpack, digging to the section where I’ve tucked away my physics syllabus. I’ve been trying to remember the instructor’s full name ever since the tutoring session. I remembered his first name, Paul, but that’s all that was coming to mind when he was hovering over me with his hot-ass breath and…I don’t know…lurkiness? I browse to the top of the syllabus to find it—Cotterman. That’s right, Paul Cotterman. His cell phone number and email is underneath his name, and it catches my attention. I don’t know why. I have no reason to call him now that I understand the lesson, but something about seeing it there listed out draws my attention, and it makes my stomach twist.
The knock on our door stops us all instantly. Even Paige whispers into her phone, telling the person on the other end that she’ll have to call them back.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” I whisper, my stomach suddenly overcome with the thumping of my heart. “Rowe, what do we do? It’s them. It’s totally them.”
“Maybe not,” Rowe shrugs, and I just push her off balance, because like hell it isn’t them.
Paige is standing on her bed now, biting her thumbnail and pacing in place, like she’s hiding from a mouse. I hold my finger to my lips, like somehow if we’re all quiet we’ll be able to get away with this. I get closer to the door, now able to see the shadow of someone standing on the other side.
“It’s Molly. I’m out of printer ink, and I need to get this paper done. Can I borrow yours? It will only take a few seconds,” says a soft voice, clearly the shy girl that lives next door. I relax, and wave off Rowe and Paige as I put my hand on the door.
“One second,” I respond. But the instant I turn the knob I feel the pressure of the door push in on me, and before I know it, Nate has slid past me, and Ty is staring at me—his arms folded over his chest, his face scowling.
“Run, Rowe! Run!” I try to save her, but Nate is swift, and he quickly carries her over his shoulder out our door. She giggles the entire way.
“You are in soooooo much trouble, ladies!” Ty’s voice fills our room as our door closes behind him.
“Oh please, like you didn’t have it coming,” I say back, standing my ground. I’m still not sure if he’s truly angry or amused.
“Pink. I f*cking hate the color pink,” he says, his arms relaxing finally until he locks them behind his neck, and then it’s there—that tiny hint of a smirk that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and clues me in, lets me know that Ty is playing with me.
We’re locked in this staring contest for a few long seconds when Paige interrupts. “Right, well I think I’m done here. Cass, I’ll be out late. You sure you don’t want to come to the party?” Paige asks. She glances between Ty and me, and she already knows my answer. No, I don’t want to go, because standing in front of this man beats the hell out of a dumb party.
“I’m good,” I say, not once taking my eyes off of his. Paige leaves without saying goodbye.
“So, tell me, Cassidy Owens…” he starts, and I wince at hearing my full name.
“Ooooooh, that’s the I’m in trouble tone. I know that one,” I say as I walk backward until I feel the backs of my legs hit the bed, forcing me to sit.
“Oh, you’re in trouble all right,” he says, constantly coming closer until he can reach forward and put his hands on my knees. His touch is a faint tickle at first, but soon his hands have a firm grip on the tops of my legs.
“You started it,” I say, tilting my chin up, keeping the volley going. On instinct, Ty turns and looks at my dresser, remembering his small prank. He curls the side of his mouth into the sexiest smile, the dimple in his cheek shaded by the dark stubble.
“Yeah,” he says, bringing his eyes back to mine. “I sure did.”
I push myself back on the bed, and Ty slides his hands so they’re resting on either side of my body, and then begins to lift himself so he’s hovering over me. I succumb and lie on my back while he pulls himself completely from the chair—holding his chest above mine with his massive arms. They’re perfect, and his biceps are working so hard that his T-shirt looks as if it’s about to rip from his arms, the white fabric hugging it so tightly.
Unable to stop myself, I run my hands up his forearms, onto his biceps, and under the sleeves of his shirt until I can grip his shoulders. Every curve of his body is warm and smooth, the muscle underneath so powerful. “You have the most unbelievable arms. Like, seriously—when I have to write a thesis paper, can I use you as my subject?” I say, letting my gaze wander over his biceps while my hands slowly stroke his skin, admiring every dip and ripple. I know I sound gushy and corny, but seriously, I love his body. It’s a masterpiece.