Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Sayla
“Welcome back, Kroft.” His smile goes crooked. “Did you forget rule number two?”
I gape at him for a long moment, unable to formulate a single word, let alone an entire sentence. I also can’t seem to drag my eyes off the view.
I mean, the sight of Dex working out in the weight room last week was plenty spectacular. But mostly naked Dexter is a whole different level of … spectacle.
Water drips off his towel-ruffled hair onto the wall of his bare torso, glistening in fat droplets.
I’ve never been jealous of water before, but can you blame me?
He’s all pine-scented and broad, his tanned skin rippling and flexing.
Instead of a clingy workout shirt drenched with sweat, I’m getting an inventory of every single muscle that has ever existed on a human being.
A man being.
“Hold on,” he says, adjusting his towel.
That’s when I find my voice. “No, no, yes. Please. Yes. Hold on to that towel.”
“You’re still looking,” he points out. I clap both hands over my eyes and spin around so I’m facing the wall. Then I start to ramble. And it’s a gusher.
Like the Niagara Falls of apologies.
“I’m so, so sorry, Dex,” I choke out. “I had no idea you were planning to take a real shower. I thought that was an excuse I made up to get you out of the room so I could rescue you from Tori. But then, on the way to her cabin, I sort of told her the two of us are in a relationship, and by sort of I mean I definitely told her the two of us are in a relationship, but only so she’d stop making passes at you. ”
I pause to gasp for oxygen like a fish on a dock.
“And I fully realize I should’ve checked with you before doing that, but the words just flew out of me in a spur-of-the-moment kind of way.
Like an instinct I hadn’t thought all the way through?
Then once the lie started, I felt like I had to follow through.
But I can totally go over there now and tell Tori the whole truth, which I would totally understand you wanting me to do under the circum—”
“Kroft.”
The word comes out low and deep. Gentle. Almost amused. In fact, my name sounds like forgiveness on his tongue. And since my lungs are completely out of air now, I take the chance to refill them. Gratefully.
“You all right?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say on the exhale.
“I’m going to need you to talk a whole lot slower.”
“Okay.”
“Also, you can turn around now. I’ve got my shorts on.”
I slowly turn, dropping my hands from my eyes, and he’s not kidding. He does have his sweats on, but that’s all he’s wearing. “You’re …” I nod to indicate his naked chest. “You still need a … a …”
What’s the word I’m looking for?
Elephant? Sailboat? Red balloon? My cheeks burst into flames, and my brain’s completely fried from witnessing the eclipse of Dexter Michaels. And the truth is, I’m only looking at half his body. I can’t even imagine if I’d walked in on him fully —
“The water in the shower’s hotter than I expected,” he says. “I’m gonna need a minute to stop sweating, or my only long-sleeved shirt will get wet and stay that way all night.”
T-shirt. Riiiight. That’s the word I was looking for.
I bob my head, wordlessly. Then I press my lips together, mostly to keep from drooling. I still don’t trust myself to say anything that makes sense yet. Kind of like Dex and his sweat. I’m gonna need another minute.
“So, what’s that you were saying about Tori? You told her the two of us are a couple?”
My mouth is stuffed with cotton. The statement sounds so much worse when he says it out loud. “I was just trying to help,” I croak.
“Yeah, I heard that part,” he says. I’m prepared for him to laugh at me. To scold me. To be angry. What I’m not prepared for is the bright smile that breaks across his face. “Thanks, Kroft.”
“Wait. What?” My jaw comes unhinged. “You’re glad?”
“I’m glad.” He moves over to his bed, sinking onto the edge. “She was missing my subtle hints.”
I let out a small snort, which doesn’t help with the heat on my face at all. “To be fair, you weren’t being all that subtle.”
“Or maybe you just know me well enough to catch on to my cues better than most.”
“Know you well?” I scoff. “We aren’t even friends.”
“We’ve worked together for the past three years, though,” he says.
“The minute you got hired, you jumped right into leadership. Maybe you lost track, but we’ve been on a bunch of the same committees and teams. We’ve run for the same offices.
Applied for the same campus roles. We’re in meetings together a lot.
And someone as smart as you is bound to pick up on signals after a while. ”
For the record, I didn’t lose track. In fact, I have a list of all these things on one of my clipboards.
“I always thought it was pretty bold of you,” he continues. “Going up against me for positions when I’ve been at the school twice as long. It’s only natural that I’d win some stuff over you. But that’s gonna change the longer you stick around. Assuming you want to stick around.”
“Of course I want to stick around,” I say. “I spent my whole life trying to find a place that felt like home. And Harvest Hollow’s the most at home I’ve ever felt.”
“That’s what happened to me, too,” he says. “Except I was twelve when we moved. The whole town’s pretty special.”
“So is the school,” I say. “I love Stony Peak.”
“Home of the underdogs.”
“You mean undersquirrels.”
“Exactly.” He draws in a breath, and the planes of his bare chest expand. “That’s the reason I fight so hard for my department.”
“Me too.” I swallow. “It’s why I try so hard to be a part of everything. But then I probably end up being too much. Like Mr. Wilford said. Instead of being a team player, I put myself in the spotlight.”
“Yeah, same.” Dex runs a hand over his still-damp hair, and fresh droplets flick onto his shoulder. A thickly muscled shoulder that’s covered in tattoos.
Whoa.
How am I just clocking this?
There’s a coiled-up snake. A bleeding heart. A cracked skull. An eagle with a rose in its beak. My gaze dips, taking them all in. And Dex must notice, because he reaches up and runs a hand over the skin, wiping off the water.
“So.” I press out a little laugh, embarrassed by my continued breathlessness. “Secret tattoos, huh? Three years working together, and I had no idea.”
“I don’t exactly run around campus in tank tops.” He takes a beat. “Or with my shirt off.”
“Smart.” I wrinkle my nose. “Otherwise, there’d be a daily body count from everyone fainting and cracking their heads open.” I try to laugh again, but it sounds more like a honk.
“I’m just not really into explaining the significance.” His eyes lock with mine. “And if no one knows, they can’t ask.”
I offer him my most solemn nod. “Your ink is safe with me.” I have zero desire to tell anybody that I saw Dexter’s half-naked body. Also, he’s still half naked now. And I’m dying to ask him about the tattoos.
There’s a stretch of silence. Then he says, “You want to know about the tattoos, don’t you.” A statement, not a question.
“Maybe.”
“Well, maybe I’ll tell you.” He smirks. “In exchange for your eternal silence.”
I cross my heart. “Promise.”
His mouth curls up, and he hitches his left shoulder.
“The stuff on this side’s just typical stuff guys get when they’re young and dumb and unoriginal.
A group of friends from the dorm started out with the snake when we were freshmen.
And we kept adding something new every year. The skull. The heart. The eagle.”
“Eagle with a rose,” I add.
“Dramatic, right?” He snickers. “There’s nothing too meaningful about any of these. Other than the fact that we got them together.”
I study the curve of his muscles, the art of friendship permanently engraved on him.
“Well, I like it,” I say. Then again, anything that marks a commitment to friendship means something to me.
My focus shifts to his other arm. There’s writing on the bicep and a crescent moon in the center, but I can’t make out the words from here. “What about that one?”
He shifts on the bed, leaving his arm open for closer inspection. So I come forward, reading out loud.
“Right up to the moon and back.” I pause for a moment, searching my memory for where I’ve heard this before. “Little Nutbrown Hare?”
He nods, slowly. “From the book. Guess How Much I Love You.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a bunch of your friends from college running around with that moon, too.”
“Heh. No.” He meets my gaze. “I got this one with my sisters.”
“Oh, wow.” As someone who never had a sibling, I can’t even imagine a gesture like this. “That’s … that’s very sweet.”
“My mom used to read the book to us kids all the time,” he says. “The words are actually in my mom’s handwriting.”
And now I think I might explode from the sweetness. “You’re kidding.”
“I am not.”
Something stings behind my eyes, but I blink to avoid any tears. Dex examines my face, like he’s looking for signs that this conversation might be too uncomfortable for me.
“You recognized the line,” he says. “Did your mom read this to you, too?”
“That wasn’t her strong suit,” I say. “Still isn’t.”
“Then how do you know about the rabbit?”
“Loren has the book. It was her mom’s favorite, too.”
“Was?”
I swallow down the lump gathering in my throat. “Loren’s mother passed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I only read the book myself a few times,” I say. “But the lines stuck with me because … Well.”
He hazards a small, tentative smile. “Because you’re a theater teacher who can’t help memorizing dialogue?”
“No.” Emotion swells in me, and I struggle to put the feeling into words. “Because I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have somebody love you so much they’d cross the sky to prove it.”
The creases around Dex’s eyes soften, but he says nothing. He doesn’t minimize what I just shared either, or tell me my mom’s probably not good at expressing her emotions. He just lets me sit with the feelings. Which is, honestly, the only thing I need.
“I don’t know why I told you all this,” I say at last, trying to shrug off the moment. “I don’t talk about my mom with anyone.”
“Except Loren?”
“She knows a little, yes. But I try not to go on about how hard things were for me when I was a kid. Not when my mother’s still around.
And Loren’s still got plenty of hard stuff she’s dealing with now.
Her dad’s got early-onset dementia, and the medical bills plus the cost of his care are ridiculous.
So I’m not about to jump in and try to one-up her with my mommy issues, you know? ”
“That’s kind of you.”
“Spoiler alert: I am kind, Dex.”
“So you walk about Stony Peak pretending to be tough,” he says, “But underneath you’re just a big softie, huh, Kroft?”
I smirk. “Think what you want about me, Prince Charming. Just as long as you know I won’t ease up on winning the FRIG.” I allow a healthy dose of sarcasm to accompany my smirk. We were getting entirely too vulnerable and serious there. And Dex must read the room because he shifts tones, too.
“Me either,” he says, with a sloped smile. “Ever.”
“And only one of us can win.”
“Obviously.” He bobs his head.
“So we should probably say goodnight before we do something crazy, like call a truce.”
“Or become friends?”
I feign a gasp. “Heaven forbid.”
“Right.” He crosses his arms. “So. Collaborate tomorrow, then?”
“Solid plan, non-trucey roommate.” And with that, I collect my pajamas from my suitcase and scurry to the bathroom to change.
Unlike Tori’s pink silks, I sleep in plaid flannel during the fall. More like something a lumberjack would wear. So it’s a good thing I’m not trying to attract Dexter tonight. In fact, I’d like to throw water on the flames of the attraction I’m feeling for him.
When I come out dressed, Dexter’s finally got his shirt on.
That’s a start. I return his hoodie, and the absence of his warm scent hits immediately.
So I make myself busy, tidying up the things spread all over my bed, while he digs around in his duffel.
I clear my throat, unable to resist teasing him. Just a little.
“Did you pack your teddy bear in there?” I ask. “As I recall, you still have it.”
He glances up at me, startled. I may not want Dexter to be attracted to me, but I do like impressing him with my memory.
“I’m just looking for my charger.” He pauses to ruffle his hair in a way that’s both sweet and annoying.
I can’t exactly keep my edge while picturing him as a cute little boy in the hospital.
He returns to his search, locating a charger brick in his bag and plugs the cord into the small power strip next to the nightstand. Then we climb into our beds.
The mattress is soft. The blankets are warm. When I flip off the light, moonlight spills through the cracks in the curtains.
“I’ve got Clarence back in my office for good luck,” he speaks into the dark.
“Clarence is the bear?”
“Yup.”
“And you keep him at school.”
“Yeah. Why? Does that ruin the very manly view you have of me?” I can almost hear the smile on his lips.
I smile, too, although he can’t see me. “What makes you think I’ve ever had a manly view of you, Dex?”
This earns me a low breath of laughter. “Your jokes are getting better, Kroft.”
“They were never that bad.”
“Agree to disagree.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, and I look up at the ceiling, counting the wooden beams streaked by the moon.
“But seriously,” he says, after a stretch. “Thanks for running interference with Tori for me today. That was a nice thing to do, considering you can’t stand me.”
“Eh. If I’m being honest, I might hate you just the tiniest bit less than I thought I did.”
He gifts me with another soft chuckle. “Just the tiniest bit less? Quite the ringing endorsement.”
“Baby steps,” I say. “I can’t go too easy on you since we are still competitors. And anyway, you’re going to hate me when I win that grant.”
“Don’t you mean the FRIG?”
“Hah. Yes. Exactly.”
“What makes you think you’ll win?” he asks.
“I have to win.”
“Effective argument,” he says. “So how about this? Just to make things fair, I promise to be more irritating tomorrow.”
“Good. Yes, I think that should work. More irritating tomorrow. Thank you, Dexter.”
“Sleep well, Kroft,” he says. “I’ll try not to snore too loud.”