Because Nathan won’t let me touch him when there are people around. And there arealwayspeople around.
Isabella basically lives here at this point, always sleeping in Ryan’s room, and Austin’s around most nights unless he’s crashing at Maisie’s. Even Aurora was crashing on the couch the other day. It’s like a damn frat house. I can’t seem to get a moment alone.
So I get why he doesn’t risk it. I do.
Still doesn’t stop me from being extremely sexually frustrated.
I kick off the blanket—again—because I’m too hot and too tense and too?—
I stare at the ceiling. Then at the wall that separates my room from Nathan’s.
I debate it for all of two seconds before I shove off the bed and nudge the laptop aside with my foot, still open from earlier when I was watching a random movie to get my mind off him, and head out of my room.
Nathan’s door is closed, but light is spilling out under the edge, so I know he’s still awake.
I drag a hand through my hair, and knock, just once, in case he’s asleep.
“Yeah?” his voice comes through.
I push the door open and glance inside. His room’s lit only by the lamp on his desk, and there’s a movie playing on his laptop, the volume low enough that I can hear the scratch of hispencil over it. He’s sitting on his bed, his hair still damp from the shower, a gray T-shirt hanging loose on his shoulders.
And he’s wearing glasses.
Oh, fuck. That is so unfair.
He looks at me, raising his eyebrow. “Couldn’t sleep?” he guesses.
I shrug. “Starving,” I lie. “Got any snacks?”
He scoffs, shaking his head, but reaches across his nightstand and grabs a pizza box. “There’s still a couple slices left.”
I open it up, take a slice, and flop down at the end of his bed, bending a leg underneath me. Nathan goes back to drawing, but I catch him sneaking glances at me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Thought you’d be out tonight.”
I stretch out my legs, leaning back on my hands. “Kinda wanted to stay in with my babysitter instead.”
That gets me a look over the rim of those glasses. “I’m not your babysitter.”
“Oh right.” I tilt my head. “You’re just mybaby.”
He doesn’t answer, but his ears go pink, which is victory enough.
I chuckle, swallowing down the bite of pizza as I watch him work. His brows knit when he’s focused, lips pressed together while he sketches.
I take another bite of pizza, then nod toward his sketchbook. “What are you working on?”
He hesitates, his fingers drumming the edge of the page. “It’s not done.”
I smirk, nudging his foot with mine. “C’mon. Show me. Don’t be a coward.”
He glares at me, but I just grin wider, waiting him out. Eventually, with a sigh, he flips the sketchbook around so I can see.
I shift closer until our shoulders are brushing, unable to take my eyes off the page. It’s so fucking cool. The dark red and purple colors catch my attention, stretching across the page in some kind of post-apocalyptic world, surrounded by collapsed buildings in the background.
“It’s not finished.”
He sounds a little embarrassed which I’d tease him about if I wasn’t so invested and amazed by what I’m looking at. I used to love comics as a kid but this is…Fuck. It’s dark and grungy and interesting as hell.