Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)(21)

“Okay, maybe we could do that.”

“That doesn’t seem enthusiastic enough—lemme hear that enthusiasm.”

“Fuck yeah, we can totally f*cking do that.”

“Now give me a high five,” he said, so het up she couldn’t resist.

But man oh man, did she live to regret it.





Chapter 10


She first knew she had made a major miscalculation when they got to his place. Images of cool lofts and fraternity houses danced through her mind, until they got to the building at the tail end of campus and she realized. He was living in a dorm. Tate Sullivan, king of cool, was in a tiny one-person dorm room like hers—in fact, his dorm room was smaller. He had to turn sideways to get between the desk and his bed, and said bed barely looked big enough for his enormous body. She was willing to bet every dollar she had that his feet hung over the end when he lay down. When he sat his knees touched the leg of his desk.

It was ridiculous.

But also wholly terrifying. Somehow she was supposed to sit in this tiny room with him, and not on the couch he had mentioned. He had lied about that, or else thought his bed counted—which she supposed in most ways it did. It was couch shaped and people could easily sit side by side on it. What was the big deal?

She didn’t know.

She only knew that she was fidgeting, and not really listening to anything he was saying.

“Okay, so all I got is my laptop, but it’s super big so it should be fine to watch. Do you think? I mean I guess we could see if the AV department has, like, a TV we could borrow or—”

He stopped short of finishing his sentence the second he saw her.

She couldn’t blame him, however. She knew she looked…off.

“Letty? You still with me?”

“Oh. Yeah. The laptop. Cool.”

“You seem weird.”

“Don’t I always?”

She let out a little laugh, but knew how it sounded. She read it from his uncertain, baffled expression, as clearly as if he had told her what he thought.

It was as hollow and desolate as a haunted auditorium.

“No. No not really. That was just something I said in high school because some * had briefly taken over my body. Remember? You have to remember. I said it like twenty minutes ago.”

“I remember. But really there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Great. So you’re gonna sit down now.”

“Sure I am. Any second. Definitely about to happen.”

“Oh definitely. Yeah, I can see that you sitting next to me poses no problems for you at all,” he said, in a way that should have seemed nasty. Only it didn’t, and he made sure it stayed that way. “Or you know I could just take my desk chair and move it into the bathroom doorway, so we can both see my laptop without ever making you look as horrified as you do now.”

“I look horrified?”

“To put it mildly.”

“I’m sorry. My face disobeys me all the time. I tell it to look like an ordinary freshman about to watch a movie with wrestling champ Tate Sullivan, and all it can manage is what feels like anxious frowning.”

“It looks a lot like anxious frowning, too. But we can easily make that go away.”

He stood, and lifted his desk chair like it was made of paper.

“See I can just move this to here.”

“Stop. Tate, stop a second,” she said.

But he didn’t.

He just kept on rearranging furniture.

“And then if I just angle the screen…”

“Tate, no, no. Stop I said.”

“It’s really not a problem.”

“I know. But I’m just being ridiculous. I don’t need you to sit in the bathroom, okay? I can sit on the bed with you and everything will just be normal and fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded after the word, yet still he hesitated. More than that, in fact. His eyes roamed over every item in his room, as though looking for an alternative solution.

And he found one.

A really stupid one.

“I tell you what, then—how about we put something between us?”

“You want to put something between us. Like in medieval times.”

“Exactly, yes. That way, my leg will never touch your leg and my butt will never nudge your butt.”

“I wasn’t concerned about our legs touching. Or our butts nudging. Can butts even nudge?”

“My butt is a world-class nudging champion. But see, now you don’t have to worry about that,” he said, and he was completely right about that. She didn’t.

She had to worry about everything else.

When she sat down his scent assaulted her from all directions, too sweet and clean for her to fully accept it. He was supposed to smell like feet and farts and locker rooms, and instead everything was as fresh as a walk in the wintry air. His pillows could have been laundered that day. His comforter felt smooth and crisp beneath her fingers, and left the scent of meadows between them.

And then there was his body, his clothes, his hair.

That tart cologne she remembered so well from high school was gone, replaced by something that seemed incredibly familiar. It had a hint of almonds, warm and honeyed and so good she knew she should know it. It even reminded her of nice things, like sitting in the window seat of her bedroom with a book or driving to the movie theater for the first time with her friend Becky Rivero.