“No, I don’t want you to go. Come in.”
He moves aside and I enter his bedroom. He closes the door behind him and locks it. As the lock clicks into place, I wonder why he did it: is it because we’re Love Interests and we can’t be seen together, or is it because he knows what I’m about to do and wants privacy? I really hope it’s option two.
“Sorry if I seemed weird before,” he says. “I’m just confused. This is so unlike you.”
I pause. “What do you mean?”
He runs his hand through his hair. His shirt is now fully buttoned up, but it still pulls up a bit, giving me a glimpse of his stomach. Now I get why Love Interests are taught to do it; it’s a pretty big turn-on. “It’s just, well, you normally do everything by the book. Whenever Juliet is around, you’re always the perfect Nice. But the perfect Nice wouldn’t be here. He’d be downstairs, with Juliet. And yet … you’re here.”
I nod. “That I am. Again, if you’d like me to leave, I’ll go.”
He smiles. “I’m not complaining, not at all. It’s just worth noting, I think. So, what do you think of my room? Do you now know why the LIC spent so much time designing it? Is it, I don’t know, making you fall in love with me?”
I glance around his room. It’s a lot bigger than mine, and it’s really freaking adult. That’s my first thought: this is a man’s bedroom, not a boy’s. I mean, there’s art on the wall! Not a movie poster or something, but actual art! His bed is a double, and the blanket is light gray, buried beneath dark-gray throw pillows. An e-reader sits on the wooden bedside table, beside a shiny chrome lamp.
The best part of the room, though, has to be the window. It takes up most of the far wall, and it’s framed by soft-looking navy curtains. Through the window I can see trees and the night sky.
“Actually, yeah, it does kind of work. I mean, it doesn’t make me fall in love with you, but I do know more about you now. For example, now I know that you prefer e-books to print books, you monster.”
He laughs. “That’s actually true. Print books are so heavy, and I always wreck them, which makes me feel bad. What else?”
I point to his record player. “You still listen to records, for some reason.”
“It’s all about the sound, man. There’s nothing like it. Anything else?”
I nod toward his bed. “Your bed is a double.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?”
“It means you want a partner. Or maybe I’m thinking about it too much. You could just like extra space. I don’t know.”
If I want to make a move, this is my one chance. How much time has passed since Kaylee left? Maybe five minutes. That leaves me with only five more minutes to spend with him. And chatting is nice, but we’re alone in his bedroom. I repeat: we’re alone in his bedroom, and he’s told me twice now that he doesn’t want me to go. This is the best chance I’m ever going to get.
“Hey, Dyl?”
He looks at me. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to do something, and if you want me to stop at any time, you can tell me, okay?”
All he does is nod, so I reach out and grab his wrist. I hang there for a second, my thumb drawing circles on his skin, waiting to see if my touch is acceptable. He doesn’t move away or say anything. Instead, a cute smile lights up his face. I pull him forward a step, so he’s directly in front of me, and then I grab his shoulders. He’s gone soft, pliable, and it’s so fucking hot. I squeeze him maybe a little bit harder than I have to, just to feel how firm he is, and he seems to like it, because he bucks slightly, his knees relaxing. I guide him back a few steps to the spot where I want him, with his back pressed firmly against the window.
“Is this good?” he asks.
“It’s perfect.”
I place one hand flat on the cold glass beside his head and then lean forward so that we’re almost touching. “Are you okay with this, Dyl?”
He nods. “I am.”
I lean forward and kiss him. He kisses me back, slower than he did at the shed. Unlike last time, I don’t feel like ripping his clothes off, but this … this is better. Softer. Kinder. More like I’ve finally found a way to express how frigging much I like him.
He closes his lips and pulls back a little bit. His hands are on my hips, his fingers playing with the edge of my shirt. I breathe in, taking in some much-needed air.
“We’re out of time,” he says.
I want to say he’s wrong, but I know he’s right. Seconds are all I have, so I kiss him again. He kisses me back, but it’s different—lighter, hesitant. He closes his lips and rubs my arms.
“Caden?”
“Yeah?”
“We need to go.”
I clench my hand into a fist and tap it against the window. “Yep.”
I press my forehead against his.
“I’ll give you some time,” he says. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to find her, and then it’s game on. And hey, Caden?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m rooting for you.”
I close my eyes and press my forehead against his just a little bit harder. “I’m rooting for you too.”
I tap the glass one last time, then I take a step back. The air away from him feels cold, and I know why: I will never be that close to him again. That kiss was it for us. I want to say something to him, to tell him how much I wish I weren’t competing against him, or how much I want him to be my boyfriend. But I’ve already spent more time than I should’ve here, and he’s right. I can’t stay.
Somehow, I leave his room without looking back.
And the grand finale begins.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
I step down off the staircase and scan the crowd for Juliet. I peer around a tall guy in a bad suit and spot her. She’s standing in front of the pool with her arms crossed. I stride over to her.
“Juliet!” I call as I open the pool gate. “There you are!”
She turns, faces me, and smiles the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her.
“Caden!” she says. “I was looking for you! Where’d you go?”
“I was looking for you! I guess we just missed each other.”