“Sure.” He slides his arm around my shoulders and turns us toward the door. I slip out from under his embrace and enter the apartment first, feeling awkward as fuck, and completely unsure of myself.What the hell am I doing?
“Cool apartment.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m still getting used to having two rooms. You always think divorce is going to be awesome—two rooms, two sets of everything—but so far, it’s kind of a pain in the ass. Sorry about my dad, by the way. He thinks he’s cool, but he’s just old.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Mr. Hendricks calls from behind his closed door.
“That’s kind of the point.” Styx opens the fridge and grabs out a carton of juice, then drinks it straight from the lip. He finishes drinking and wipes the juice from his chin. For a split, crazy half-second, I think about crossing the room and licking the residue from his skin. Instead, I cross the room and take the carton from him.
“Did you want a glass? Sorry. I just contaminated it with my cooties.”
“I like your cooties. Besides, aren’t cancer cooties all the same?”
“Yes.” He nods resolutely, a huge-ass smile bursting free. “Yes, they are.”
I drink. Styx studies me. I close my eyes and tip my head back, swallowing down the sticky, sweet liquid. When I’m done, I close the carton and hand it back to him. I turn away because the awed look he’s giving me makes me smile and I don’t want him to see. I don’t know how to behave around him now. I don’t know how to beuswhen all I want to do is kiss him.
“So ...” Styx puts the juice away and turns to face me. “You wanna watch TV or something?”
“Can we go to bed?”
Great, Alaska. Just great. Why not just stick a neon flashing sign above your head that readswhore?
“Er ... sure.”
“I mean, I’m kind of tired, and I don’t know, maybe the adrenalin of sneaking out and travelling across the city by myself after two is wearing off.”
“You want me to take the couch?”
“No.” I answer too quickly.Oh my God. When did I become such a mental case? “Can we just hang out in your room? I don’t think I can sleep by myself.”
“Cool.”
I exhale. “Cool.”
Styx grabs the duvet off the chair and walks the short hallway. He turns at the door. “Are you coming?”
I shake my head and offer a weak smile. “Yeah.”
“What the hell is up with you, Stones? You’re acting weird.”
I just shrug and walk toward him. He steps aside to let me enter.
This bedroom isn’t like the one at his mom’s. It’s devoid of posters,Rolling Stonemagazines, and vinyl. Basically everything Styx.
He closes the door behind him, and I jump. “I can leave it open if you want?”
“No, it’s fine.”
Styx crosses the room to the bed underneath the bay window and I follow. I glance out onto the street. A bum pushes a cart filled with cans along the sidewalk. He stops and bends to pick up the can I’d thrown, before tossing it in amongst the others. Guess now I know why Styx heard me and his dad talking. There’s no soundproofing in this apartment whatsoever.
Styx throws the duvet on top of the bed and climbs in, holding the blankets aloft for me.
I take a tentative step forward and pause. “I don’t have anything to sleep in.”
“Oh, yeah.” He lets the duvet fall and sits up, yanking off his shirt and throwing it at me. “Here.”
Nervous laughter bubbles out my throat. “I didn’t mean you had to give me the shirt off your back.”