12. CHAPTER TWELVE #2
I close my mouth, frustration burning in my chest. I know what I’m trying to ask. Where am I sleeping? What the hell are we doing? Why am I even standing here?
Apparently getting any of that from my head to my mouth is beyond me tonight.
Theo turns away and pulls open one of his drawers, rummaging through it before taking out a bundle of fabric and pressing it into my chest.
My hands close around it automatically, soft, worn cotton gathering between my fingers as I look down. A t-shirt. I rub my thumb over the faded edge of the print, and familiarity prickles before I can place why.
Then I do.
I’ve seen Theo wear this.
My fingers still against the fabric as I look back up at him.
Theo is standing directly in front of me again, my chin tilting up, looking to the bed and back to him.
“Stop thinking so hard, Reid,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
I swallow, whatever answer I should have getting harder to find the longer I hold his stare, so I lower my eyes instead and immediately regret the decision.
Theo is still shirtless, bare skin and dark ink filling the space where I’d apparently expected to find something less distracting.
I should look somewhere else. I know I should, but the alcohol has apparently destroyed whatever part of my brain usually stops me from openly staring at people.
At him.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “Thanks.”
Theo doesn’t answer, the quiet between us stretching until I lift my head and find him staring at me.
He tips my face back towards his, and the light pressure of his finger registers everywhere, a pulse running down my spine while my eyes lock helplessly onto his.
“Look at me like that again,” he says quietly, stripped of the lazy amusement he usually hides behind, “and I’ll break that promise in a heartbeat.”
Heat flashes through me at the touch, fierce and unmistakable.
I jerk backwards before my body can betray me any further, gripping the t-shirt until the fabric bunches between my hands.
“Don’t touch me.”
It barely makes it past my lips.
I meant them to cut, but my voice has gone quiet instead, thinned out beneath the heavy beat of my pulse.
Theo’s jaw clenches, his eyes falling to the part of my lips, before raising slowly back to mine, leaning closer.
His breath brushes the already hot skin of my cheek, close enough now that another inch would change this into something I’m rapidly running out of ways to pretend I don’t want.
“Get in the bed.”
Nothing playful remains in his voice.
I swallow and search his face, trying to find the familiar Theo somewhere in his expression. The smirk. The amusement. Anything I know how to deal with.
There’s nothing.
I step backwards, my balance wavering beneath me, alcohol making me less coordinated, but the extra space lets me breathe properly again.
I turn towards the bed, and every thought I’ve been trying to keep out of my head comes crowding straight back in.
I grab the edge of the blanket and pull it back before I can stand there making this any weirder than it already is, climbing beneath it with considerably less coordination than I’d like.
The mattress dips beneath my weight, sheets cool against my legs as I roll onto my back and drag the blanket up over my chest.
The awareness of Theo watching me sits hot beneath my skin while I pull the blanket higher and stare determinedly at the ceiling, concentrating on keeping my breathing steady when every part of me is still wound tight from having him that close.
The mattress shifts as Theo climbs back into bed beside me, his weight sinking deep enough into it that I slide towards him, my shoulder brushing against his arm.
I pull away, only to find the edge of the mattress. There’s nowhere else to go without practically hanging off the bed, and moving again would make it painfully obvious that the problem isn’t the lack of space.
It’s him.
So I stay exactly where I am, staring at the ceiling while the warmth of his arm sits against mine.
We aren’t touching, but he’s all I can feel, and the heat rolling off his body makes it impossible to forget he’s there. His breathing slows, evening out while mine still feels too shallow, every inhale catching in my chest.
I tug the blanket higher, and Theo answers with a long, put-upon sigh before the mattress shifts beneath us as he rolls onto his side, facing me.
I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling.
Looking would only make this worse when I already know exactly how close he is, his breath brushing the side of my neck every few seconds, stirring the fine hairs there and making me painfully aware of the small stretch of mattress separating his body from mine.
Christ, relax,” Theo mutters.
His voice is rough beside me, sending an unwanted shiver across the back of my neck.
I turn my head and glare at him. “This isn’t exactly comfortable for me.”
My eyes flick pointedly towards the narrow space between us before returning to his.
Theo’s mouth quirks in that distinct way I don’t trust.
“Might be more comfortable if you changed.”
My entire body locks, because for one alcohol-muddled second I think Theo is suggesting I strip off in his bed.
Then Theo glances down.
My jeans.
Right.
I’ve been so busy trying not to think about the fact that I’m lying in Theo’s bed that I’ve been ignoring the denim digging uncomfortably into my hips. Now that he’s pointed it out, it’s all I can feel.
My fingers fist in the t-shirt he gave me. I should change, except changing means taking my jeans off while I’m already lying in Theo’s bed with him barely a foot away.
My mouth goes dry as I glance at him. “Close your eyes?”
It’s soft, dangerously close to a question rather than a demand, and I brace myself for the comment I know is coming.
He holds my gaze, the amusement in his expression fading. His head tips back against the pillow, eyes closing without argument.
The tension in my shoulders eases.
“Thank you,” I breathe, his lashes twitching against his cheeks, though he keeps his eyes firmly closed.
I shove the blanket down and push my jeans from my hips, kicking them off towards the end of the bed before pulling my own shirt over my head. The room feels colder without it, and I grab Theo’s, yanking it on before I can become too aware of how exposed I am.
His smell surrounds me the moment the fabric settles, and I stop with my hands still caught near the hem.
The shirt hangs loose on me, softer from however many times he’s worn it, the hem falling high against my thighs. I tug it lower, trying to cover more skin, but there’s only so much fabric to work with.
When I look up, Theo’s eyes are open, and my hands still around the hem of the t-shirt.
There’s nothing playful in his expression this time. His green eyes are darker in the low light, and the longer he holds mine, the more difficult it becomes to ignore the reason my skin is already heating beneath his attention.
His gaze moves down the t-shirt I’ve just pulled on and settles on my bare thighs beneath the hem, lingering there long enough that my fingers curl into the fabric.
Theo sucks in a breath through his teeth.
“Fuck.”
The word is so quiet I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it, but I do, and the unmistakable want beneath it sends heat spreading low through my body until I’m far too warm beneath the blanket.
His hand scrapes over his jaw, tongue pressing briefly against the ring through his lip. I’ve watched him do that before. More times than I should probably be able to remember.
It’s never made my mouth this dry.
Theo looks away, dragging the blanket over himself and rolling onto his back. His hand settles over the covers between us, fingers slowly closing into his palm until the tendons stand out along his wrist.
“Theo.”
I have absolutely nothing to follow it with. I don’t know why I said it, what I expected him to do, whether I wanted him to look at me or was hoping he wouldn’t.
His jaw tightens, green eyes finding mine from across the pillow.
“Go to sleep.”
His voice is low and controlled, completely at odds with the fist still clenched over the blanket between us.
I hold his gaze, his eyes so dark that there’s barely any colour left around his pupils. My heartbeat climbs steadily into my throat the longer he looks at me, and I have to swallow around it, but even that doesn’t break whatever has me lying there staring straight back at him.