Page 95 of IOU

Rumor has it she nailed Bennett!

He killed me.

Or at least paralyzed me for a while.

I drag my fingers along the ridges and dips of his abs as if it were a maze—an ab maze. He’s been drifting in and out of sleep this morning while I watchThe Aquariumnaked, tucked neatly to his side as if I were small and delicate.

There’s no reason to move or to even be up this early on a Wednesday, but I couldn’t sleep. All these thoughts kept running through my head.

Could I be in love with Maverick?

I think so. I mean, surely you don’t feel this way about a rebound.

Does one normally want to ease their rebound’s blanket down just to gaze at the penis that made you come harder than you ever thought possible?

Does a rebound make you crazy with worry with every erratic beat of his heart?

What about wanting to hug him, like all the time? Those can’t be normal thoughts you have of a rebound.

Hell, I don’t know if they were even thoughts I had about Tucker. Sure, I cared for Tucker and I stupidly gave up my goals and followed him here, but I don’t remember feeling this wholly consumed.

I literally wake up and wonder how many IOUs I can rack up from Maverick in a day. Like, what can I do to make him laugh or piss him off so he does that whole growly thing in his chest? I’m constantly Googling all the newest stress relief activities and I’ve even been watching Rachael Ray when he isn’t home so I can cook him better dinners.

My mama always said you know you love a man when you don’t want to poison his food.

Isodon’t want to poison Maverick’s food.

I might want to eat half of it, but not poison it.

Scary Maverick Lexington has become more than just my roommate. He’s become something far more permanent. Maverick makes me feel like my crazy is perfect and adorable ... I’ve never felt so adored.

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him.

I said I would spend my last years at college focusing on me.

“Stop thinking,” he says sleepily, leaning down and placing a kiss to the top of my head.

See? See how fucking hard he’s making this?

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

He makes this rumbling sound. “You’re still.”

I’m still?

“Are you saying I only sit still when I’m thinking?”

I look up just in time to see him roll his eyes and yawn. Gah, his teeth really are perfect. So white and straight. I wonder if my teeth will be that white if I keep using his toothpaste?

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The only time you ever sit still is when you’re deep in thought.”

I watch his jaw settle back into his signature frown.

“That’s awfully observant of you,” I note.

He shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

How could I forget?

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