I toss my remote beside hers and rub at my face, yawning. A quiet gasp turns my head.
“What’s up?” I ask, watching Riley put her phone on the counter and start going through her book bag.
“Grades are posted,” she says, voice anxious. “I can finally see what I got on that test.” She grabs something out of the front zipper pouch, then pulls out her laptop and rushes over with it, sitting down beside me. She slips on a pair of glasses I’ve never seen her in.
“You wear glasses?” I ask.
Riley looks over at me after opening up her laptop. The glasses are black-rimmed and rectangular, and fuck, they make those big, blue eyes of hers pop even more. “I need them to read if I don’t have my contacts in,” she explains, sounding like she’s apologizing for it, which tells me Riley isn’t a fan of wearing them.
Or, that maybe some piece of shit never told her how pretty she looks wearing them.
I watch her long lashes blink behind the lenses. “You should skip the contacts more often,” I suggest. “Trust me. They look really good on you.”
Riley stares at my mouth as if she can't believe the words I just spoke, then lifts her gaze to my eyes again. She smiles, quick and shy, and ducks her chin to hide her blush, putting her attention back on the screen.
I figure even if I do point out that I saw what my compliment just did to her, she’ll deny it. And right now, I know she’s more concerned about finding out her grade. I am too. I’m curious.
“You thought you did good, right?” I ask.
Riley keeps her focus on the screen as she chews on the side of her thumb, pressing keys with her other hand and swirling her finger over the trackpad. She doesn’t answer me. She’s nervous.
“Hey.” I place my hand on the small of her back and rub my thumb there. I get her eyes. “Remember how sure you were after you took it? You said you nailed it, babe. You wouldn’t have felt that way if you didn’t have this.”
Riley stares at me, thinking back to the words she spoke, then remembering them, she nods, but keeps chewing on her nail and holding onto that worry. She looks back to the screen, and I feel her body draw away from my hand as she pulls in a deep breath and clicks on the trackpad.
“Oh . . . my God,” she whispers.
I drop my feet and sit forward, sliding my hand around to her side as I prepare to comfort her. “Hey . . .”
“Ninety-seven.” Riley's head whips around. She beams at me. “I got a ninety-seven. A fucking ninety-seven! Holy crap! CJ!” She shifts her laptop to the couch, twists her body and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a crushing hug. “This was a unit test! It’s worth so much of my grade. This is awesome!” Her excited breaths are sharp against my ear, and the quick pounding of her heart thumps beneath her hoodie.
“See? What’d I tell you?” I give her a squeeze, my other arm around her now too. “My girl’s a fucking genius.”
Riley giggles quietly, and for seconds we’re just holding each other, neither one of us easing away or even relaxing the slightest bit. Her arms keep their pressure and mine hold her captive, circling her tiny waist. My face is half buried in her hair. I can smell her shampoo and the soap she uses on her skin. I can feel the blunt curve of her knee against my thigh, and I know if I were to lean back I’d pull her with me, forcing her to straddle my lap.
“You said we would celebrate when I got my grade,” Riley reminds me.
“I did.” I smile when she leans back enough to look at me. My grip slides to her hips. “Anything you want, darlin’. Name it.”
She keeps one hand on my shoulder and brings her other up to stroke her chin. “Mm. Anything I want, huh?”
I chuckle.
She giggles at herself, then grips onto me again, sliding her fingers to the back of my neck and holding there. “You seem sure of yourself. I should say something you have no chance of following through with.”
“Like?”
“Like,” she looks over at the TV, then turns back to me, stating, “Fireworks.”
“Fireworks?”
“Over a football field.”
“Oh, you’re getting specific . . .”
She drops her head into a firm nod. “I want to lay in the middle of the field on a pile of blankets and watch them together while we eat coconut inspired food and listen to music.”
My chest rumbles with laughter.
Jesus. Riley was getting very specific. It’s cute. I want her honest desires. All of them.
“Give me a week. I’ll make it happen,” I promise her, knowing this won’t be a problem and feeling confident about it.
Riley tilts her head and stares into my eyes as if she’s reading something hidden behind my irises. Her gaze narrows. Her mouth twitches. “And I want it to happen on July fifth,” she states, voice victorious.
“Damn,” I mumble through a grin, watching her smile stretch wider. “For a second, I thought you were going to make this easy on me.”
“Not a chance,” she chuckles. “And don’t think you’re getting off easy tonight either. We are still celebrating.” Riley pulls back and leaps from the couch, hurrying into the kitchen. She heads straight for the refrigerator, yanks open the freezer door and takes out the bottle of tequila she bought and stuck in there, holding it above her head.
I groan and drop my head back against the cushion, causing Riley to giggle before she starts hunting for glasses.
“You know what they say about that stuff—it makes you pretty. And I’m not sure you can handle me getting any more attractive, darlin’. Why don’t we celebrate with you kicking my ass in Madden some more?”
I throw out this other suggestion hoping she’ll take it, not because I hate tequila. Typically, I don’t mind drinking it. I just don’t think getting shit-faced off it right now is a good idea. Riley and I are touching again. We’re both flirting. Me more than her, but she’s giving it back. All in all though, we’re keeping things friendly.
And there’s nothing friendly about tequila.
“It only makes girls pretty. I doubt it said that in the men’s bathroom,” Riley argues. She rounds the couch and sets the bottle and shot glasses on the trunk, then she crouches behind it and pushes it closer to my knees. “There. And we don’t have any limes, so we’re drinking it straight.”
“Awesome,” I say, voice heavy with sarcasm as I sit forward more. I look at her with wide eyes as she claims the spot next to me.
Riley knocks against my shoulder. “It’ll be fun,” she says before pouring us both a shot.
“Famous last words,” I mumble.
“A ninety-seven. That’s like, so close to a perfect score, CJ. They should really just give it to me, you know? I always have gum for everybody.” Riley tosses a grape into the air, aiming to catch it in her mouth, but it hits her chin and bounces to the floor. “Ugh. I’m never going to get this.”
“Hit me.”
She smirks, leans forward, grabs another grape out of the bowl on the trunk, and tosses it at me. I bite into it.
“Show off,” she mumbles before shooting back another shot.