Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I’m sure Austin heard already, but I won’t advertise my breakup with Leo. I can’t have him thinking he’s the reason. Things might get weird. But if Kit invited—
In an instant she’s at my doorway, tugging her shiny brown hair out of a tight ballerina bun. “You should come hang out with me in Levi’s room tonight.”
In addition to the weekends, we’re granted a few hours of Open Dorms on Thursday evenings.
For months those nights were reserved for Flooders football games, but when the season ended, Kit and I filled the time doing homework with our boyfriends in Leo’s room or the Flooders “light lounge.” Flooders on a Thursday might have been weird since I’m no longer going there for Leo, but now I have a personal invitation.
“Great!” I nearly yell. A valid reason to be in Austin’s room, his couch maybe.
Sadly, I doubt Austin himself will be there.
I never see him on his floor on Thursdays.
I should just ask what he’s doing at that time every week, but he doesn’t talk about things that veer into the Leo topic, so neither do I.
I start humming. We don’t talk about Leo, no, no, no.
Kit’s legendary in those yoga shorts over opaque tan ankle tights—strong and feminine, like she walked out of Step Up. And she fills out that fitted workout tank in a way I never could.
But then she looks at me—bright red and sweaty, physically spent and glowing. Just Kit. A person, not a body.
Is that you answering my prayer?
“Hey, Kit?” I follow her to her room, where she kicks off her shoes.
“Yeah?”
“You sure that’s okay with Levi?”
“Yep.”
“I mean, he was clearly resistant to us doing homework in his room before, so …”
“I talked to him.” She grabs her shower caddy and pauses, a secret dancing on her features.
“Thanks, girl. So ballerina Kit has entered the chat.”
She glances up, like Uh oh.
“Gorgeous. Dinner after your shower?”
Her brows rise and her voice softens. “Thank you. Leave in twenty?”
After dinner, I hover in Austin’s doorway, laptop clutched to my chest. As suspected, he’s not here.
Levi lowers his propped-up feet to greet Kit, but she beats him to it, running to curl up with him on the couch.
He gently wraps an arm around her shoulders, like he’s bubble wrap.
She pulls in a deep breath, and her Disney eyes blink up at me.
Is she taking that risk for me? I send her a thankful smile.
She nods almost imperceptibly and unzips her backpack.
Levi addresses me with a knowing hello. It’s annoying how well he can read people, but he doesn’t know exactly what I’m thinking right now. I glance at him again. Fine, he does. I’m lucky he doesn’t blab the results of his Edward Cullen telepathy to his roommate.
With a stilted wave, I cross the room to Austin’s side.
Couldn’t miss a chance to sit on his blissful rust-colored couch.
Soft but firm—the perfect place for a nap.
But when I lower, I end up perched on the edge like a Pride and Prejudice character, back straight, hands folded.
I should be embroidering or writing in calligraphy like this.
Maybe someone will suggest we take a “turn about the room.” I open my laptop and force myself to slouch—casual, normal. Being in here just feels so … loaded.
Austin left a hoodie and some shirts on the back of his couch—his stuff is draped everywhere on this side, not unlike my room—and it smells deliciously like him.
Like a freshly laundered lumberjack. Levi’s side is perfect of course, as if Marie Kondo is hiding in the closet.
Both beds hide way up near the high ceilings, lofted above their old, passed-down sofas.
Austin’s desk faces the window, and Levi’s sits next to the doorway.
Something about this room … Even with Levi reading my mind, it feels more like home than anywhere that was supposed to be.
Not the sterile Pasadena penthouse. Not my dad’s new apartment with that woman.
Not the places I’ve stayed, but the feeling I’ve wanted. Safe and thrilling. Like Austin.
“Hey, Soph.”
My heart bounces like a Labrador spotting its favorite playmate.
Austin. Here. He’s never here on Thursdays.
He flicks a glance to the lovebirds, sends a head tilt. Back to me. “Pretending to study?”
“Pretending?” Leaning into my regency impression, I place a dainty hand on my chest in horror.
His giant frame plops next to me, arm on the back of the sofa, body angled toward me. That knee brushes mine, but he doesn’t move it. His voice dips, easy and warm. “I like walking in here and finding you on my couch.”
Heat creeps up my neck, threatening to give me away.
Levi twists around to peek at us.
I lower my voice. “I think we’re disturbing your roommate.”
Austin glances behind him, then matches my volume. “KitKat’s right next to him. He’s not thinking about his work right now.”
Sure enough, Levi brushes her hair behind her ear and trails a knuckle down her jaw.
Leaning into his touch, Kit says, “Let’s go see what’s happening in the light lounge.”
Friend of the year.
“After you.” Levi makes eye contact with Austin as he leaves.
And we’re alone.
“Play a game with me?” Austin asks.
I banish my laptop to the floor.
He shifts to face me completely. Always upbeat and positive—some of my favorite things about him—but tonight, mischief in his eyes is the cherry on top. This is Austin at his best.
“Truth or dare?” That playful voice surprises me with an edge of seriousness.
My mouth hangs open, but I snap it shut. There he goes again. Safe yet thrilling.
“You sure about that?” I send a coy smile. “I won’t hold back.”
A grin grows. “I’ll go first.”
I edge forward. I’ll have to keep myself in check. Just because he’s in a great mood doesn’t mean I won’t freak him out with too much flirting.
“Okay,” I start. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
Figured. “Run down the hall and back like a gorilla.”
At least a dozen guys are milling about the floor, any of whom would tease him for far less. It’s hard to embarrass Austin though, another of his many wonderful traits.
He jumps up and I follow, hiding in the doorway so it’s not obvious that I’m behind this. I don’t want to be a jerk to Leo.
Austin flies down the hall, waving his arms around wildly and shouting the most ridiculous gorilla noises I’ve ever heard.
My laugh curls me over against the doorframe. He went big. But that means he’ll have high expectations for my turn. Nerves swirl in my belly.
“How’d I do?” He pauses in the doorway with me, closer than we usually stand.
My laugh calms, and I try to speak seriously. “Austin, you’ve found your calling. That was an inspiring performance.”
Unashamed, he steps into the room and leans his hip on Levi’s desk next to me.
“Why, thank you. Try not to feel intimidated.” His face is flushed—couldn’t be from the run. He unbuttons a few buttons, then grips the back of the plaid shirt and slides it off in one motion. “Gorilla-ing is hard work.”
I chuckle. “Is that how you take your shirt off every time?”
He smirks and steps to drape it on the arm of his sofa. “Yeah.”
And now it’s T-shirt time. He has plenty of printed shirts from over the years—the ones that haven’t been made into a quilt—but this one is plain, with more stretch than usual. I suppress a sigh, keep my face straight. “Unbuttoning it all the way is so tedious?”
“Exactly.” He kicks a football under his desk and lifts his backpack onto the chair. Hesitant eyes finally meet mine across the room.
“Dare,” I say, without being asked.
As he meets me at Levi’s desk, he pats the back of his phone, presses his lips together. Like he’s working up to something.
Then sets his phone down. Deliberate. His eyes find mine. And hold.
Vulnerable. Intense.
He rubs a thumb over his knuckles. Then—
“Dance with me again?”