Page 63 of Problematic Summer Romance

“You should still drink this.” He’s holding a glass of water, and I decide that he’s right. I’m thirsty, and I also want him to come closer.

“Sorry I stole your bed,” I say after a long sip.

“It’s fine. I’ll take the other.”

“You don’t have to.” I pat the mattress next to me. Slide a little, making room for him.

It’s too much, too soon. I can tell in the way he stiffens. “Maya.”

“Yeah?”

“I need to be sure that you know this isn’t going there.” I’m being rebuked. Scolded, even.

I must be into that. “What’s going…where?” I ask, blinking, and I must hit the sweet spot. The way I let my eyes widen just enough, the tilt of my head at an angle that broadcasts utter ignorance—no, I don’t have the faintest clue what he might be talking about.

I’m convincing. His jaw shifts, but after a moment he smiles and shakes his head, like he just mixed up a shadow for a ghost and feels sheepish about it. “You got interrupted. Tell me about that counterargument.” He sits next to me, weight dipping the mattress. His eyes are warm. Not always, not by default. But on me, tonight.

His gaze has been thawing throughout the day.

“Oh, yeah. Counterargument. You shouldn’t tell Eli, because…aren’t youmyfriend, too?”

“Am I?”

“You tell me.”

“Well, there is the fact that until thirty hours ago I thought you were still in middle school.”

“No, you didn’t. We had simply forgotten about each other’s existence.”

Silent laughter.

“But now you have a relationship with me, too. And…I’m not going to ask you to keep secrets from my brother if they can harm him. But I’d rather he found out about this weird mess that I’ve made of my life from me. I need a little more time, before Eli and I…”

He gets it. Because he nods, and when I shift into him for a hug, he lets me. He reciprocates. His arms close as much on my waist as mine loop around his neck. I memorize the feel of his flesh. The blood pulsing underneath. The consistency, so different from mine, but made of the same stuff. It’s more physical contact than we’ve had all day. He smells like fresh air and something soapy, warm skin that I want to lick. Which might be the reason I do something…

Yeah. Pretty stupid.

I was going to slowly work toward this. I was going to…isseducea word anyone has used in the past ten years? I was going to. But I can’t help myself. I can’t remember ever being more turned on, ever wanting so assuredly, so I pull back a little, change the angle, and try to press my lips against Conor’s—who doesn’t push me away.

He does, however, grip my chin in between his fingers, stopping my mouth just a few short inches from his.

He’s right here. Breathing, even. Pupils, wide. And yet. “No,” he says, firm. A heartbeat later, cold air brushes against my bare legs, and he’s walking out of the room.

Well.

Shit.

“Wait, Conor…” I run after him, but stop the second he spins around to face me. He looks sofurious, it should probably scare me into a rapid retreat. All it does, though, is makemefurious, too.

Yup, anger issues.

“Maya. This is…” He shakes his head. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You like me,” I say, accusing. “Youwantme.”

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