“I do want to help, but only because I’m wired that way. I’m not trying to fix you.” I hesitate before adding, “I don’t see you as broken.”
Not like me. And I’m so afraid that if I tell you everything, you won’t see me as more than the pieces they swept up after.
Shane lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “At this point, I should probably say, stay away from me. I don’t have anything good to give you right now, but then I think about not talking to you anymore and my chest hurts.”
“I can’t,” I point out. “You moved into my locker. Look, we’ll take it one day at a time. It’s pretty clear I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. So … relax.”
“I don’t know how to be a boyfriend,” he warns me.
I cock a brow at him, smiling. “That’s too bad … since I have a PhD in girlfriendology from the University of So Many Feelings.”
He laughs, as I intend. Then he’s leaning toward me. I have a panicked moment when I worry that I won’t know what to do, but when he tilts his head, I go the other way automatically, and it’s pretty natural when our lips meet. He kisses me tenderly, and it’s everything a first kiss should be. I sink my hands into his curls as his arms go around me. Shane’s so warm, his lips moving on mine in slow, gentle glides. It’s a sunbeam of a kiss, all delicious heat and lazy pleasure. When Shane pulls away, I can’t restrain a ridiculous smile. He seems pleased with himself, cuddling me close so we can pretend to watch the rest of the movie. By the time it ends, it’s after midnight and the storm has worsened.
“You’re not walking home in this,” I tell him.
“I wasn’t looking forward to it. Are you asking me to stay over?”
“Not for sex.” It seems best to make that clear.
“Damn.” Obviously teasing, he makes a mock-disappointed face, as if he really thought that was on the table. “I can take the couch—”
“I’d rather have you with me.” This is a unique opportunity to be close to Shane, so I can’t look a gift horse—or storm—in the mouth. We can probably make do in my bed. It’s a daybed, but if we curl up close, it should work. Aunt Gabby has a bigger one, but it would be too weird to sleep in there with Shane. It’s odd as I go about the nightly check, which my aunt usually performs. She looks at all the windows and doors, making sure everything is fastened and bolted. Two women living alone can’t be too careful, she says, and I appreciate that she doesn’t call me a kid.
“Do you do this every night?” he asks.
“My aunt does.”
After I’m sure the house is as safe as we can make it, I turn out most of the lights and lead the way back to my bedroom. Then I find Shane a large University of Michigan shirt that my aunt stole from some past boyfriend and never gave back. I’m wondering, Do we have spare toothbrushes in the bathroom? I think so. Aunt Gabby buys stuff when it’s on sale. So I pull a new blue one from an open package and hand it to him.
“You can wash up and change in the bathroom.”
This isn’t a normal date; I know that much. They usually end because somebody has a curfew, or people waiting at home, but the way things have worked out, nothing is ordinary between us. And maybe that’s how it should be.
While he’s occupied, I put on my pajamas quickly. I’m grateful they’re long-sleeved because I don’t want to have that conversation with him tonight. Most people don’t notice, but I’ve always got on a sweater, shrug, or hoodie, covering my arms. For some girls, it might be the fact that their biceps aren’t toned enough, but I’m hiding something else entirely.
Shane grins when he sees me in the green thermal jammies. Clearly I’ve dressed for seduction. But he’s still wearing his jeans, though he’s barefoot now and I can see he’s washed his face. I still need a turn in the bathroom.