Page 28 of I Wanna Text You Up

“Sure, or that.” He plugs the password in and swipes around a few different screens. “How’d you get so into rap? You don’t reallyseem…”

“The type? Why, because I’m an artist and I should be all about that mopey emoshit?”

He shakes his head, flustered. “N-No, that’s not what I wassaying.”

“Wasn’tit?”

Grinning, he says, “Okay, maybe alittle.”

“Thoughtso.”

“Seriously, how’d you get intoit?”

“I’m really notthatinto it, just what’s on my B&B playlist. I like how jazzed up it makes me feel, gets my blood pumping in the morning, which helps get my creativity flowing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I listen to that mopey emo shit.” I grin athim.

“Aha! I knewit!”

I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a walking artistic cliché. What about you? What kind of music do you like?” I twist my lips up as I study him. “I want to say you’re a top 40s guy based off the wholeaw shucks, boy-next-door thing you have going on, but I also kind of want to say classic rock since you’ve already surprised me oncebefore.”

He laughs. “I have an ‘aw shucks’ thing going on? What does that evenmean?”

“You know.” I stand and make my way to the fridge, pulling out the juice and refilling my cup. I rest against the counter, take a drink, and shrug. “Irresistible blue peepers, blond curly hair. The dimple in your chin. That body. That cute grin you hand out like candy on Halloween night. Your obliviousness to how hot you are. The fact that you’re kind of a closet nerd. You know, all ofthat.”

Caleb crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the material of his shirt, and leans against the counter. His eyes are trained on me, full of mischievous fun and somethingelse.

He takes me in from head to toe, his stare so full of heat I can feel sweat licking at my skin. We’re standing only a foot apart, something palpable hanging betweenus.

Pushing off the counter, he takes a step toward me and leans close. Those safe couple feet of distance that separated us only moments ago have become nothing but inches, and my heart begins beating against my chest wildly at his proximity, his scent almost overwhelming me. My Brown Sugar Pear body wash is the first thing I smell, but beyond that is a whole differentscent.

Allman.

AllCaleb.

“You been paying attention to me,Zoe?”

Blood rushes to my ears, nearly drowning out his words. The invisible string is pulled taught and there’s no air left in theroom.

There’s something in his words, in the calm, soft tone heuses.

He’s not asking to embarrass me. He’s asking toencourageme.

“You’re hard to miss,Caleb.”

His eyes darken and flit to my parted lips, remaining there for far longer thanappropriate.

We stand there, inspecting one another, waiting for…I don’t know what. To make a move, to bring our mouths closer, to do anything other than just standhere…

My grip is waning on the glass I’m holding, and I wonder how many seconds it’ll be before it slips out of my handcompletely.

Suddenly Caleb rears back and retraces his steps to the safe two-foot distance we had before, his attention turning firmly to hisphone.

He’s good at that—retreating, pulling himselfaway.

He also plays into the silent broody thing a lot more than I thought he would. He’s keen on using as few words as possible to get his pointacross.

Part of me likes it. The other part wants to scream out infrustration.

Slowly, my heart begins to calm, my breathing returning tonormal.

---