Page 17

17

Caleb

M addox convinces me to go to the library with him, where he buries his nose in books. He doesn’t even talk to me, though he’s always been like this—he enjoys having someone he knows close by, even if it’s silent. It helps him focus. I don’t get it, but it’s whatever.

I’m bored out of my mind, but I shut up and play games on my phone, waiting for him like the awesome friend I am.

It’s almost nine p.m. when he finally slams his books closed and announces that it’s time to head back. Thank fuck. Maddox’s dorm is on the other side of the campus, and I walk him back because his books are too heavy. For someone who proclaims to not like jocks, he has no issue benefiting from my strength and stamina.

When I finally make it back to my dorm room, it’s dark and there’s a Nick-sized lump on his bed. He turned in early today, apparently, but I’m much more surprised by the fact that my bed frame’s still fucking empty.

Pissed off, I get ready for bed and debate whether I should just go talk to the resident assistant. He probably has an extra bed I can take, but then he’d ask questions and I’m sure one thing would lead to another. Rhys and Schultz would probably get into trouble—and snitching isn’t really my style.

I should just swallow my ego and go talk to Rhys.

Or, maybe, I can squeeze between the wall and Nick again…?

It’s wrong, though.

I can’t keep invading Nick’s space like that, especially after this morning. The guy looked horrified when he realized he was hugging me and pressing his dick against my back.

Was he thinking of someone else?

But he had said my name. His sleepy mind somehow knew it was me.

“Get it together, you delusional moron,” I mutter at my reflection.

I head out of the bathroom and quietly make it to the door, defeated and ready to face Rhys.

“Caleb?” a hoarse voice asks. Nick stirs in his bed and sits up and pulls at the curtains, opening it enough to let light from the streetlamps outside in so we can see each other. It casts an orange glow against his features. Beautiful, really. Not that I can ever admit that to anyone.

“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you? I’m heading out.”

He’s silent and unmoving for a long while. When he doesn’t say anything else, I shrug and reach for the door.

“To Dex’s?” he suddenly asks, and my hand freezes.

“Huh? Dex’s?”

“Yeah. Um. I can leave if you want to hang out with him here. I guess I owe it to you.”

My eyebrows clash together, and I work my jaw, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. When it finally clicks, I let out a surprised laugh. “You think I’m heading out to hook up with Dex, and you’re offering our room? Where would we even mess around? Your bed?”

He huffs and lies back down, turning away from me. “Forget it.”

“Huh?” I can’t help but laugh again. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Normally, hearing that stupid word nothing would set me off, but he’s acting like such a petulant kid that I can’t even be annoyed. I clasp my hand over my mouth and shake with silent laughter, then walk over to him. He doesn’t budge when I poke him.

“Nicky,” I say.

“It’s nothing. Let it go.”

“Why are you grumpy?”

“Leave me alone.”

All right, now that annoys me. I pull the pillow from underneath him and he yelps when I smack it across his head.

He sits up and grabs his pillow. “Caleb!”

“Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“I said it’s nothing.” He groans in a way that suspiciously sounds like a whine. Nick lies back and presses the pillow against his face.

I’m quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of things. Is he angry at me about something? I backtrack and replay our conversation, and—

“Nicky,” I say, much gentler than I intended. “Are you jealous because of Dex?”

“Stop,” he says, and that’s definitely a whine this time.

He must have seen Dex earlier at the café, chatting me up at the counter. Yeah, Dex was being all touchy and chatty, but I hadn’t really been paying attention because I was strategizing Schultz and Rhys’s downfall in my head. He had asked me if I wanted to meet up again sometime and I told him I was too busy with hockey and work—not really, but I don’t feel like hanging out with him any time soon—and he backed off.

I stare at Nick. “Aw, you really are a clingy friend, aren’t you?”

It’s actually… fuck, okay, it’s adorable.

God, I need to get my head checked.

He murmurs, “Please stop.”

“Okay,” I say quietly, taking pity on him. I don’t get what’s going on with him, but it doesn’t seem like he understands it either, with how defeated he sounds. “I’m not meeting up with Dex, but I’ll be right back.”

Nick pulls the pillow down and meets my eyes, and my heart does a funny thing with how he’s looking at me, all soft and hopeful. His lower lip juts out in a pout when he asks, “Where?”

“Morgan’s.”

His face falls once more. “Seriously? No offense, but I don’t think Rhys sees you that way—”

I grab the pillow from him again and smack him again, much harder this time. “I’m going to grovel for my bed, you dumbass, not hooking up with him. I’ll tell him I apologized to you, and you’d better back me up if he asks.”

“You said you didn’t want to do that.”

“I don’t, but we can’t share a bed again.”

He winces, and I instantly regret my choice of words.

Nick croaks, “I’m sorry about this morni—”

“Not what I meant.”

“But—”

“It’s fine.” I don’t want him to feel bad about this morning’s accident. It wasn’t his fault. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Hurt flashes across his face again, making me feel like I kicked a puppy. I’m getting frustrated now, at a total loss of what exactly he wants to hear from me.

After all these weeks being at close proximity with him, I can’t say that I’ve learned to read Nick a hundred percent, though there are a few things I’ve figured out.

I’ve learned that he never asks for things because I think he somehow believes it makes him a burden, but then he gets genuinely happy when I do shit for him—like bring him back snacks, make his iced latte with an extra pump of sweetener, or when I wait for him after practice.

And I’ve also learned that he deliberately lies about his feelings, which I think relates to him never asking for things.

But even if Nick’s not vocal with words, he wears his heart on his sleeve. He feels too much, and he has a hard time hiding it. That means when he’s genuinely happy, I can tell.

And I can also tell when he’s genuinely upset… such as right now.

My jaw ticks because I know that if I ask him again what’s the actual issue is here, he’s only going to deflect and deny. If guessing games were a real sport, Nick Sandoval would be the reigning champion.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“No,” he says immediately, as I expected, but he’s still looking at me as if he’s lost in his thoughts. I can’t stand it.

“Are you angry I slept in your bed?” I ask.

“No.”

“Is it about Dex?”

“No.”

I clench my fists. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

Don’t get angry, don’t get angry.

“Nicky,” I say carefully. “I’m trying really hard to read you, but you need to meet me halfway here.”

When he doesn’t reply, I pinch the bridge of my nose and give up.

“Fine,” I snap. “Be right back. I need to say this though—you really test me sometimes.”

The last part’s uncalled for, but I’ve never said I’ve been good at controlling my temper. The anger in me simmers, and I need to get out of here because if I lash out, Nick will run away again.

I’m turning away when Nick murmurs, “You mess me up, Caleb.”

“What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know who I am around you.”

“What’s that, a riddle?” What is happening? Just a few minutes ago, I thought it was cute how sulky he was being. This morning, we were sharing a bed, and he had his arms around me. Now, we’re once again on totally different pages and it’s irritating how we can’t find a middle ground. I grumble, "Jesus, Nick. This tug-of-war you keep playing is exhausting.”

“Caleb—”

Oh, god. I can practically feel the usual word vomit I can’t control when I’m well and truly pissed. It’s a pain in my lungs, clawing its way out, and I can’t stop. “You practically beg me to be your friend, then you push me away.”

“I do want to be your friend.”

“Fucking act like it, then. Your hot and cold personality is driving me nuts.” Running a hand through my hair, I grit my teeth and spit out, “What, do you need to get drunk again so we can have an actual conversation about feelings? You going to kiss me again while you’re at it?”

Nick freezes. Time stops. I suck in a surprised breath.

“I kissed you?” he asks, voice barely audible.

“Uh.”

He gets up, blinking rapidly. “Caleb? I kissed you?”

In the seconds it takes me to respond, I mentally go through all the swear words in my vocabulary. Nick stares at me with huge, pleading eyes, and I let out an exhale. I mumble, “Yes, then you forgot all about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought that was a dream.”

“Because you’re impossible to read. You lose your mind even if you lose a smidgen of your precious control. What would you have done if you found out your straight ass got drunk and kissed your roommate? You would have freaked out.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Caleb.”

“What? I’m serious. This is exhausting. Give it a rest and be honest for once in your life.”

His eyes snap open and he grabs me by the front of my shirt, and I’m just about to shove him away when he does the last thing I ever expected.

He slams his mouth against mine.

What the?

I lose all the fight in me, and Nick steps away with a horrified look on his face. His jaw drops and a blush creeps across his cheeks to his neck.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers.

I blink at him and put a finger up to my lips, touching it and feeling out of my element.

Once again, Nick Sandoval rearranged my entire universe.

It takes a good moment for my brain to catch up with reality. All the while, Nick looks as if he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack.

And then I do what makes sense—I fist my hand in his hair and yank him closer, smashing our mouths together once more.