Page 19 of I Wanna Text You Up

There’s a water droplet slowly making its way down, down, down beneath the towel.God do I want to see what’s beneathit.

“Zoe?”

His voice snaps me out of my haze and I bring my eyes to his, cheeks heating with the thoughts racing through mymind.

I will not find my roommate attractive. I will not find my roommateattractive.

“Go put some clothes on,Caleb.”

He smirks. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to try to jump mybones?”

Yes.“No.”

“Are youlying?”

Yes.“No.”

His smirk grows, because he knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t call me on myshit.

Instead he spins around and hustles back down the hallway to his bedroom, only to emerge moments later wearing a plain black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and nosocks.

This might beworse.

There’s something so sexy about a guy in sweats with bare feet. It reminds me of a rainy Sunday afternoon spent in bed…which is exactly where I’d like to be rightnow.

I watch as he makes his way into the kitchen, opening every cabinet there is and closing each one with a thud louder than thelast.

When he makes it to the refrigerator, he all-out huffs indisdain.

“Is thereanythingto eathere?”

I lift myself off the couch and take a seat at the bar. “What do you mean? The cabinets are full and there’s milk in thefridge.”

“There’s milk for macaroni and cereal, which is nearly all there is in thecabinets.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out, confused. “That’sfood.”

He groans. “That’s notrealfood.”

“It keeps mealive.”

“But nothealthy.”

I roll my eyes. “Boring.”

“Smart.”

“Then what am I supposed to eat, huh? I can’tcook.”

His mouth drops open. “You can’t cook? Like, atall?”

“I can make eggs and bake…does thatcount?”

He drops his head into his hands, laughing. “You can cook the one thing Ican’tcook.”

“Wait, you can’t make eggs? But they’re soeasy.”

“Well not for me apparently. What can youbake?”

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