She blinked over to him just as he crossed the street. Delilah’s eyes widened, a smile lighting up her face, and the twist in his stomach was back, even tighter than before.
“Hi, Delilah,” he said, trying to swallow the crack in his voice.
“Hi, Gavin,” she said back, gray-green eyes moving over every one of his features. “Finish your paper on Poe?”
“I did. You?”
Delilah pivoted and began walking toward the school. “I did, but it took forever.”
“Why? You probably already covered Poe in freshman year at Saint Benedict’s.” They climbed the steps, and Gavin held open the door, breathing in her apple-blossom scent as she passed.
“I still had to do a lot of research.”
He looked over at her, wondering about her mysterious little smile. “I’m sure you just forgot some of the smaller details.”
“Or maybe there are just too many distractions in my English class,” she said.
Gavin considered this, taking in her teasing expression. “Well, Mr. Harrington is very distracting,” he said with a small grin.
“We could be distracted at your house,” she said in a whisper. “I’m sure you’d make an excellent tutor.”
He swallowed and blinked away, but just as easily as he’d turned awkward, Delilah laughed, reaching out to take his hand in hers. She lifted the edge of his sleeve and stared down at the black ink there, the words he’d written just this morning:
She takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon.
“What is that?”
He tugged his sleeve down and blinked behind her, to where several students watched their interaction with interest. “It’s from a song I love.”
They stopped when they reached Delilah’s locker. “Are you sure about this?” he asked finally. “The house is a lot to take in.” He looked around them again, then back at her. “Being with me is a lot to take in, as well.”
Her eyes flamed, and she stretched up on her toes, her lips almost touching the shell of his ear. The halls were a whirlwind of activity, but none of it seemed to matter to either of them.
“I’m sure.”
Chapter Nine
Her
Gavin opened the heavy door and stepped through, looking around as if making sure everything was as it should be. With a small smile, he waved her in, nodding to let her know it was okay.
The entire walk there, Delilah had been high on anticipation and the thrill of seeing inside Gavin’s secret world. But on the porch, she was suddenly terrified of being gripped by the arms of a chair or tripped by the leg of a table. Was everything inside. . . wild? She imagined for a panicked heartbeat the feeling she’d had as a child, staring at the illustrations in Jumanji: vines growing on the ceilings, rhinos storming through the house, enormous bees dive-bombing from overhead.
“Come on,” he murmured, smiling in reassurance.
One tentative look past Gavin at the inside of the house showed her that it was actually very houselike.
She walked through the rooms, trailing her fingertips along each surface until it occurred to her that she might be molesting everything she touched. The furniture was pristine and beautiful, the floors—whether wood, or tile, or soft carpet—lacked any trace of dust or grime. Thick wall-papered walls were decorated with the occasional painting with life inside them—seaside scenes with gulls calling out from behind the frames, the smell of oranges as she passed a painting of a fruit tree. But other than these sounds and smells, the house was completely silent.
Gavin watched with a mixture of apprehension and amusement, his eyes wide and bottom lip snared between his teeth. He followed, studying her as she took it all in.
“That’s where I sit and read,” he said as she ran her hand over a leather couch in the living room.