Page 50 of Crash & Burn

Kissing Eddie was soul-altering in the most terrifying, exhilarating way.

The thoughts, always so tangled in my brain, ceased, and I didn’t have to focus on anything besides the taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the feel of his body pressed against mine.

The kiss was like a promise.

A promise that he understands me in a way neither of us fully understand.

A promise that he will protect me, even from the thoughts in my own brain.

And that makes my mind spiral even more because he is the one person I shouldnotbe kissing.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

I sit up and glance at the door. I’m not expecting anyone.

My brother walked me to my room an hour ago before heading down the hall to the room he’s sharing with Eddie. He didn’t say anything about coming to check on me, but I wouldn’t put it past him to do so.

I get up from my bed and look through the peephole, and my heart skips a beat at who I see on the other side.

All my coherent thoughts fly out of my brain, and my body moves on its own to open the door.

And because I didn’t take a second to think about the consequences to my actions, I watch as Eddie’s eyes drop to my bare legs, just now remembering that I am in my underwear and the T-shirt I wore to the show.

Eddie’s T-shirt.

I didn’t expect for Eddie toactuallygive it to me, especially because I was just trying to make him blush when I told Mateo he was letting me borrow it, and I definitely didn’t expect to have company tonight. I had the T-shirt tucked into my jeans earlier tonight because it is so big on me, but when I was getting ready for bed, I realized how perfectly oversized it was to sleep in, and I didn’t fight the urge to put it back on after I showered.

But I wish I put on a pair of fucking pants.

“Eyes up here, buddy,” I say, trying to fall back into our usual back-and-forth and faking as though having his eyes on me like that doesn’t make me feel I am three seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

Eddie doesn’t move; it is like he froze. Eyes stuck on where the hem of the shirt rests at my mid-thigh. The ends of his hair are wet like he just got out of the shower, peeking out from his backwards hat. He is dressed in a black crewneck sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, and my mouthliterallybegins to water.

Stop.

A friend wouldn’t drool over another friend in the doorway of a hotel room.

Even when that friend is freshly showered, mysteriously scarred, dressed with the two most universallyhotthings a guy could wear, and can kiss me like his life fucking depends on it.

“Eddie?” I say again, refusing to acknowledge the crack in my voice. I watch as he slowly moves his eyes up my body and, when I see his face, I take back what I said about not wearing pants because what I am greeted with makes my knees go weak.

I have only seen Eddie blush one other time, despite my numerous other attempts, and I forgot what kind of an effect it has on me.

The first time it happened, it was in my kitchen, and I remember thinking that I would never be the same.

If I only knew where we would be the second time it happened.

He clears his throat and coughs into his fist, looking down the hallway as if I wasn’t the only one here to catch him in the act.

“How the tables have turned,” I tease.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“It is alwaysmegetting caught checkingyouout, but today is a different story.”

He looks down and laughs before reaching his arms up to grab the doorframe and leaning in closer.

“Just because you don’t catch me, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, sunshine.”

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