13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CONNOR
Skipping coffee was a mistake.
I know this because the low whistle cutting across the courtyard makes me consider violence before nine in the morning.
Unfortunately, coffee hadn’t seemed particularly important when I was creeping around Theo’s bedroom trying to find my jeans without waking him.
Getting out had.
By the time I’d collected everything, pulled on my shoes and slipped through the door, I had barely enough time to make it across campus for my first lecture.
Thank fuck hockey players wake up at an indecent hour, or I’d be late enough to put an actual mark against my attendance, and I have no intention of letting Marcus’s inability to keep it in his pants be responsible for that.
I hitch my backpack higher and keep walking, letting the cold morning air sting some of the lingering exhaustion from my face.
It does absolutely nothing to get rid of Theo.
Every breath brings him with it, clean soap caught deep in the hoodie wrapped around me and that darker scent beneath it that I recognise before the thought even finishes forming.
I’ve apparently spent enough time around him that even halfway across campus, without him anywhere in sight, I know exactly what he smells like.
I can still see him when I left.
Curled into the sheets, dark hair sticking up in every direction, his mouth parted around quiet, steady snores. There’d been a faint crease pressed into his cheek from the pillow, softening his face in a way I’d never seen when he was awake.
I’d stared long enough for the details to stick.
The whistle comes again, closer this time, followed by the heavy slap of footsteps gaining quickly behind me.
“Fucking hell,” a familiar, sleep-rough voice pants.
My backpack is yanked backwards, the strap digging into my shoulder as I stumble half a step and whip around.
Theo is bent over in front of me, hands braced against his thighs while he tries to catch his breath.
His hair is somehow even more of a mess than it was when I left him asleep this morning, his t-shirt sitting crooked, the collar pulled low on one side to expose his collarbone.
He looks exactly like he just rolled out of bed, which makes sense considering it’s the same bed I climbed out of less than twenty minutes ago.
“Fuck,” Theo breathes, sucking in another lungful of air. “Why are you so fast?”
My brows pull together as I stare at him. I’m not prepared to deal with Theo yet, especially when every sleep-mussed inch of him keeps putting the sight of him sprawled across those dark sheets straight back in my head.
“You’re supposed to be an athlete,” I deadpan, fixing my attention over his shoulder.
Theo slowly straightens. “Not this early in the morning, I’m not.”
He pushes a hand through his hair, making an already impressive mess significantly worse, his forearm flexing.
“Bet your coach is thrilled.” I slide the strap of my bag higher. “You’re chasing me down looking like this, because?”
I know I’ve messed up before Theo even says anything, because his tongue catches at the corner of his mouth and that slow grin starts spreading across his face.
“Like what, princess?”
I grind my teeth, already regretting giving him anything to work with. “Forget it.”
Theo’s quiet hum makes it perfectly clear he has no intention of doing anything of the sort.
He closes the space between us until the last traces of sleep still clinging to him reach me, skin-warm and mixed with that familiar scent that’s been trapped on my skin all morning, only stronger coming straight from him.
Theo’s eyes travel slowly down me, and I hold myself still, refusing to react even when he takes his time about it. His fingers catch in the fabric over my chest, knuckles pressing briefly through the cotton before he tugs at it.
“You stole my hoodie.”
“I-”
I look down, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove that accusation, only for the familiar Huskies badge beneath his fingers to stop me.
Oh.
In my rush to get dressed without waking him, I hadn’t even noticed.
I’m wearing Theo’s hoodie.
I look back up, already annoyed by how warm my face feels. “It’s just a hoodie.”
The defensiveness in my voice only makes Theo’s mouth twitch.
“My hoodie,” he corrects softly.
His thumb moves over the Huskies badge, smoothing once across the fabric covering my chest.
My mouth opens, but the comeback doesn’t arrive nearly as quickly as it should. Theo’s fingers are still curled into the front of the hoodie.
Metal catches briefly between Theo’s teeth, tugging at his bottom lip, and an embarrassingly soft sound slips out of me. I cover it quickly with a cough, but the way Theo’s eyes sharpen tells me I’m not fooling either of us.
“In your dreams,” I manage.
He tugs the front of the hoodie, pulling me into him, our chest brushing, and the realisation of how easily I went with him wipes every smart response from my head.
“Oh, princess,” he murmurs, amusement darkening his voice. “In my dreams you would be in nothing but my hoodie.”
His breath skims the skin beside my ear.
“Stretched out,” he continues, quieter now. “Face buried in the pillow. My name across your back.”
My fingers curl at my sides as his words sink in, and suddenly I’m far too aware of the hoodie against my skin. Of how it would feel lying there in it while Theo stood behind me, looking at me exactly the way he is now.
I swallow against the dryness in my throat.
“I bet you would look so fucking beautiful,” Theo hums.
Beautiful.
A shiver runs down my spine.
Of all the shit Theo could have said, that’s the word that sinks its teeth in. Maybe it’s the roughness in his voice or how close his mouth still is to my ear, but it burrows beneath every defence I have, leaving me unsteady.
I shove both hands against his chest and put everything I have into getting him away from me.
Theo gives easily, stumbling back, the cold air rushing in between us, and I suck it into my lungs before I can smell him, feel him, hear that fucking word in his voice one more time.
“There is something seriously fucking wrong with you.”
My face is burning, anger tangling with everything else until I can barely separate one from the other, but Theo only lifts his hands, grinning.
“I’m straight, Knox,” I snap.
“Yeah?” Theo’s brow lifts, his eyes falling pointedly between us. “Then why are you shaking?”
It’s barely there, a faint shake running through my fingers. Not enough that anyone should notice. Not enough that he should notice.
I shove both hands into my pockets and glare at him, clinging to the anger because at least I know what to do with that.
“You’re such an asshole.”
I turn away before he can point out anything else my body is determined to tell him without my permission.
“For fuck’s-”
Theo yanks me backwards, and I turn ready to unload every bit of frustration still crawling beneath my skin when a bundle of fabric smacks into my chest.
I catch it on reflex.
“Your shirt,” Theo says, rolling his eyes.
I stare down at the familiar t-shirt crumpled between my hands. In my rush to get out without waking him, I’d apparently left half my clothes behind.
“Figured I’d save you from broadcasting your shitty taste to the whole campus,” Theo adds, and when I look up, he winks.
A couple of people pass behind Theo, and when one of them glances our way, my fingers fist in the shirt.
Standing here probably isn’t helping. Not with Theo looking like he woke up five minutes ago, me wearing his hoodie and my forgotten clothes currently bunched between my hands after he chased me halfway across campus to return them.
“It’s just a hoodie,” I mutter again, quieter this time. “I was in a rush.”
“Sure.”
My jaw clenches at the disbelief packed into one word, but Theo turns away before I can defend myself again, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and tapping it absently against his thumb before slipping it between his lips.