Page 70 of I Knew You Were Trouble

He salutes me and strips his jacket off. His tattooed arm catches my attention for so long that I don’t realize I’m staring until I hear the zipper of his jeans.

I shake my head and scurry out of there. Oh boy. I might have just made a huge whoopsie.

Candace

The air zaps and pings and pops with a current I can’t see in the blackness. I lie on my back, toying with my fingers as I listen to my breath mingle with Pete’s.

Our pillow wall is three pillows deep, two pillows high, and it’s still not enough to block out just how close he is.

“You awake?” Pete asks, and I let out a breathy croak.

“Oh yeah.”

The sound of skin against sheets fills the room. “Thought you were tired.”

“My brain won’t shut up.” Yep, it’s on an infinite loop of Pete in that tight white t-shirt and those black boxers, his hair an absolute mess, his eyes tired yet so full of life. His lips and slight scruff and the way they both felt against my skin. How I’m terrified of something happening right now and equally terrified if something doesn’t happen.

Does he want me? Does Petelikeme? Why in the world would he kiss me?

Around and around and around the thoughts go.

“Mine either,” he says, and I have to rewind to what the heck I said.

“What’s yours telling you?” I ask. Maybe his thoughts are easier to handle than mine.

He sighs. “That I should probably go home.”

“What?” I whip my head to face him, even though I can only make out the outline of the pillow wall. “Why?”

He takes a beat before answering. “What’s your number one fear, Candace?”

Oh gosh. He’s not thinking that, is he? That’s not what I meant by “sleep with me.” There goes my naivety again.

“Wait… you think we’re going to—”

“No.” He chuckles again, his nervous laughter floating around me.

“Then why do you think you should go?”

“I figured your fear of sex comes from a fear of being intimate with someone.”

“Yes.” That’s very true. But there’s also the fact I’ve never seen a penis. That I don’t know what to expect. That I don’t want to be that close with someone I don’t love. “And your point for how this relates to us right now with our pillow wall?”

He clears his throat, and I hear him shift on his side of the bed. “There’s more than one way to be intimate, Candace.”

“I’m not giving you a blow job.” I will shut that idea down right now. I barely know how his lips work, let alone anything else.

He growls, and I lift my head up to see his expression, but I can’t make out much in the darkness. Only that his hands are over his face, and he’s lying on his back, just like me.

“You really think I was asking for that?” he asks.

“No.” Kind of. “Not seriously, anyway.” Then what is he trying to say? My brain is so scrambled from his proximity. Usually I’m clear-headed around him, but then he had to go and kiss me.

“Candace… I know you see me a certain way. I don’t want to scare you.”

My forehead bunches. “How do you think I see you?”

“You wouldn’t have asked me to teach you how to be bad if you didn’t see my talent for it.”

---