Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
MY SWEET STUTTERER
Until an hour ago, my faith in Zach was unshaken.
And sixty minutes on, I still trust him.
It’s why I don’t look at his phone to see if he’s recording this.
It’s why I’m not waiting for his goddamn teammates to jump out from the shadows to laugh in my face.
As crazy as what he’s saying is… he means it.
That stutter tells me more than his words can.
It’s unpracticed. Free from artifice.
It takes a lot to process that though.
I stay quiet as he drives into the parking garage and noses us to the level where our unit has a space.
Amid that silence, however, I accept the one undeniable truth from this whole mess—that video wouldn’t have hurt me at all if Pecan had been the one kissing me.
That’s not to say that I don’t adore Pecan.
I do.
But… Zach.
It’s different.
And it’s that ‘different’ that has a whisper-soft gasp leaving my parted lips as I stare at the dash while he parks.
Neither of us makes a move to open our respective doors.
Nor do we speak.
The music I chose fills the silence.
It’s not right, either.
The playlist is all wrong now that he’s said what he’s said, but I don’t have the brain power to shift the track onto something else.
I’m a whirl of—
“Say something,” he pleads after eons of nothing. “P-Please, D-D-Denny.”
Like before, it’s that stutter, the one he’s ashamed of, the one his dad made a thousand times worse with his ‘pro-hockey players don’t have stutters, son,’ that rams home the truth.
My lips part, then firm. Then part again.
“If I wanted to kiss you… what would that look like?”
His shoulders sag. His relief is visible. His head even rocks back onto the headrest and I see his eyes close.
But he proves how perfect he is by rasping, “It means you have full access to my wardrobe.”
I can’t withhold the massive snort that escapes me, one that cascades into a thousand giggles.
He rocks his head to face me, a contented smile on his lips that’s wholly free from mockery. That’s…
God, I haven’t seen that in a long time.
He’s happy.
And I did that.
Unintentionally, but it’s mine, nonetheless.
I want to taste it—
“I mean it.”
“I already steal your clothes,” I point out around a chuckle.
“Ah, but there’s the difference. It wouldn’t be stealing.”
“You wouldn’t bitch about it? The last couple weeks, you’ve been a real mood killer when I wear your jerseys.”
“Only because it’s torture watching you wear them.”
My amusement disappears. “Torture?”
He nods. Then reaches over. Tugs at the hem of my jersey. His jersey from our high school years. “Nothing sexier than seeing you in this, D.”
Sexy?
I look like a bag of potatoes lumped together.
Instead of asking if he needs his eyes tested, I blurt out, “Is that why you’ve been asking for your jerseys back?”
“My name. On you. Fuck.”
I lick my lips. Both turned on and disturbed.
Sure, I’ve noticed his pretty face. Who on campus hasn’t?! I may have even mooned over it, but he’s so far ahead.
His name on me?
Callan brought that up earlier too.
The words gnaw at my nerves, but Zach doesn’t realize he unsettled me.
He wriggles his shoulders. “Man, it feels good to get that off my c-chest. I didn’t even realize how it’s been like a chokehold.
“It seemed like an impossible feat not dragging you onto my lap when you plop onto the couch. Watching you wearing my jerseys and not bending you over—” His nostrils flare.
“Not even having the right to hug you like I want to.” He shakes his head, not seeing my gaping mouth gape wider.
"Do you know how much your scent has been driving me mad?
It's everywhere. Jasmine. That new perfume, the spicy one you dab behind your ears in the morning. Even my clothes since you started doing the laundry because we take too long—”
“That’s why you’ve been a slow poke chore-wise, isn’t it?”
His fingers clench around the steering wheel. “I go to sleep with it. It's on the towels. It's in my clothes. You drove me crazy and I didn't even know that was what was wrong with me."
“You're insane."
"I feel insane. It’s your fault."
“You’re a manwhore, Zach.”
“Reformed.”
I scoff. “Bullshit.”
He turns to me. “Denny, I’m not like your dad. I don’t cheat.”
The words sting. They shouldn’t. They should reassure.
Anxiously, I swallow. “There’ve been no girls around the apartment recently.”
“Not since I started having these feelings for you.”
“They’re new?” The question’s sharp.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he mumbles, “If you want me to apologize for sleeping around—”
“I never said that,” I bite off. “Look, if anything, it’s good that you have practice. Only one of us can suck in bed and it’s not you.”
“You couldn’t suck—”
"I've never done this before, Zach.” I squirm at the admission.
"Shouldn't like that as much as I do."
"No.” I scowl. “You sexist pig."
"I'll take it. I'll teach you everything you want to know too..."
As mind-blowing as that prospect is, I vow, "If you sleep with anyone who isn't me and we're in this thing, I will never forgive you."
"Nor should you," he says promptly.
"And I'm not talking about what happened in tenth grade when you dumped me for those moronic mouth-breathers, Miles and Jason. I won't wait four months to let you sit next to me in class.
"I'm talking that's it. We're done. Forever, Zach," I promise.
“I’ll move out ‘over.’ If you come to me because this, whatever, isn't working out.
If you say that you made a mistake. If you tell me that you want to be just friends, that's fine.
It'll hurt at first, but it's forgivable. Fucking around on me isn't."
I don’t know why I’m ramming this home.
It’s not like this is going to last—
"I agree."
I bite my lip. "Alec’s cheating on Freya."
He clears his throat. "Yes."
"It's normal in your world, but as much as I am a part of your world, I'm not going to turn the other cheek like she does because she wants to live in France and he's going to move there once he graduates to further his career."
"I'm not Alec," he replies softly. "And you're not Freya."
He’s right. We're not. But I still had to lay down the rules.
Fool me once, shame on me…
But, now that I’ve warned him, I gingerly press my hand to his knee.
When his fingers scurry to meet mine, turning my palm over so that he can slide ours together, I feel how clammy they are.
It should be unappealing, but if anything, it's reassuring.
Much like that stutter of his, it lays him bare.
My chronically cool best friend is sweating.
Because of me.
But as our digits tangle, I feel something as I drag my thumb over them. "When did you bust up your knuckles?"
He grunts. "Got into a fight in the locker room. It doesn't matter. Dyers was being a dick."
"If you looked in the dictionary under Derek Dyers, you'd have a picture of him with a penis on his head."
"A soft one."
"Yeah. No chubby in sight."
I grin, gleeful when he cackles.
I'm such a goner!
His laughter fades, drifting into an intense expression that makes me want to squirm. I guess I’ve seen that face before, when we’re at a club and he’s about to bone his girl of the night, but it’s skewed now.
Perhaps because I never expected to see that look aimed my way?
The notion hurts my heart, but I try not to be dumb. This is already so much more than…
It’s all so out of the blue and—
“I can hear your mind working.”
“You can’t hear it,” I chide.
“Sure, I can. Know you as well as you know me, Denny.” When he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, I shiver as his thumb traces a path over my cheek. Then he gently presses my earlobe, and that faint pressure has the need to squirm building up again. “What are you thinking?”
He really doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.
He wouldn’t like it…
Especially as what I’m thinking is that he’d be a great guy to lose my virginity to.
He’d be gentle with me. He’d take care of my needs and make it good because he knows I’m not afraid of throwing his cell in the trash if he doesn’t.
He’s safe.
So why is my heart pounding?
“I liked that kiss.” It’s not a lie. “I didn’t… I haven’t pined for you, Zach.”
He blinks at my harsh tone. “I never thought you did.”
“Most girls do,” I reason. “I didn’t.” It’s important that he knows that. “I’m hyperaware of your looks because everyone fixates on them, but I didn’t sit in the corner and hang out with you in the hopes that one day, you’d see me.
“You’re used to low self-esteem in the girls you fuck, but that’s not me. I may not be conventionally pretty, but I like who I am. And I’m definitely no pick-me.”
“As if I didn’t know that your bite’s as bad as your bark,” he grouches, making me smile in satisfaction.
“No. I’m just laying it on the line here.”
“Who says you’re not conventionally pretty?”
“Me.”
“You’re so wrong.”
I refuse to argue with him over nonsense, but I still feel the heat in my cheeks. “I liked that kiss,” I repeat primly. “I’d like another one, please. It was a good first kiss.”
“I was your first kiss?”
Before his Neanderthal brain can even think about crowing, I punch his arm. “Do you remember our prom?”
“I guess?”
“Clearly not. You scared away anyone who asked me out. That was the culmination of years of sabotaging my love life. The only reason I didn’t castrate you is because the three of us went together.”
His chuckle’s deep. “Young Zach must’ve had his shit together.”
“Funny how I mustn’t have when young Denny got called a whore because everyone thought the fat freak was fucking both you and Peeks!”
His jaw tightens. “I never heard that.”
“You’re Zach Bradley,” I mock. “Why would you have?”
Scowling his displeasure, he brushes the backs of his knuckles along the curve of my cheek again.
This time, I sigh and let my eyelids flutter to a close.
“I’m s-sorry, D. If I’d known…”
“Yeah, yeah. A lot of people would be needing nose jobs.”
He might be half-smiling, but I can hear the regret in his voice. “I have a lot to make up for.”