Page 49 of Heartthrobs Don't Date Wallflowers
Zach didn’t look convinced. His eyes flicked up to the overhang, then back to me, his expression unreadable as always. And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and started walking back toward his house.
I blinked, unsure of what to do. Was that it? Was he just going to leave me standing here? A weird mixture of relief and disappointment washed over me, and I let out a breath.
But just as I was looking for the driest spot to sit down on–it was looking like the spot right up against the door, where I could lean against it and pull my knees up to my chest to keep them out of the rain–I heard Zach call over hisshoulder.
“Come on.”
I looked up, startled. “What?”
Zach stopped at the edge of his driveway. “You’re not staying out here. Come inside.”
I stared at him for a second, not sure I heard him right. “Oh, no, that’s really okay,” I stammered. “I don’t want to?—”
“Ivy.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “It’s freezing. You’re not staying out here.” He paused, eyeing my shivering form for a second. “Come on.”
There was that insistent look again. Like he was technically giving me a choice, but not really. I hesitated, glancing between his house and mine, weighing the options in my head. My house was locked. His house was... well, his. And I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of spending any more time in the rain.
“I don’t want to bother you,” I said weakly, still not moving.
“You’re not,” Zach replied, completely unfazed. He was already halfway to his front door by the time he finished speaking, clearly expecting me to follow.
I let out a long, shaky breath. What was I supposed to do? Stand out here and freeze? Get pneumonia just to avoid a little awkwardness?
With another shiver, I picked up my bag and reluctantly followed him.
fifteen
Zach’s house was strangely…normal.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting a boyband’s house to look like, but I hadn’t thought it would be just like any other family home. He left me standing in the living room, doing my best not to make too big of a puddle since I was dripping like I’d just been fished out of a lake, so I took the chance to look around a little. Blankets discarded on couches, a magazine left open on the table, a tipped over box of pop tarts on the counter—it was clear that teenagers lived here, but if I didn’t know who they were, I never would have guessed they were famous.
I was so distracted by it that I didn’t hear Zach come back in, so I completely missed it when he threw a balled-up towel at me. Well, I missed it until it smacked me in the face.
He very politely did not comment on it.
“Here,” he said, holding out a zip-up sweater and folded up sweatpants toward me. I appreciated that hedidn’t chuck these at my face too. “You should get out of those soaked clothes.”
I hugged the towel to my chest, my brain immediately short-circuiting. “What?”
“They’re soaked,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll get sick if you stay in them.”
I stared at the sweater, my brain scrambling for a response. “But... I can’t just... I mean, I don’t want to?—”
“It’s just a sweater, Ivy,” he said, cutting me off. “It’s not a big deal.”
I swallowed, glancing down at my soaked clothes again. He wasn’t wrong. My skirt was sticking to my legs in the most uncomfortable way possible, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this cold.
But still. They were Zach’s clothes.
If I put them up on eBay, I could make thousands.
Not that I would ever do that. It was just the principle of the thing.
He nodded toward the hall. “Bathroom’s over there if you want to change.”
I hesitated for another second, then mumbled a quick “thanks” and grabbed the clothes, making my way down the hallway. I peeled off my wet shirt and sighed happily as I wrapped myself in the warmth of Zach’s oversized sweater. It was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him.
When exactly I’d learned Zach’s scent, I wasn’t sure.
