Ty reaches over and smacks the top of the player, and it makes the music skip ahead to some sort of reggae song that isn’t remotely romantic, and it makes us both turn and look at the music player and laugh.
“Where did you even get this CD?” I ask.
“Record Exchange,” he says, smacking it once more, causing it to start back at the beginning. I like the beginning. I like the thought of staying here, like this all night, starting over and over.
“I hope you didn’t pay much for it,” I say.
“No, got it for free. Well…sort of,” he says, and I lean back, quirking an eyebrow up. “I traded in one of Nate’s movies.”
“He’s going to be pissed,” I say, laying my head down on his shoulder, my hand tucked under his shirt against his bare chest so I can feel the movement of his muscles, his heart, his skin.
“No, he won’t. I watched it a shitload more than he did anyway. Nate’s not really a porn kinda guy.”
“Oh,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of Ty and porn and me. And Nate. And, oh God! He can feel the heat on my face, he must, because he’s trying to look me in the eye, and I’m trying to bury myself under his arm.
“Cass, what kind of movie did you think I’d trade in for a shitty CD?” he says, amused by my embarrassment.
“I don’t know. I just…wow. Do you, like…watch that stuff? I mean, with your brother?” I’m so uncomfortable. I don’t know why. I’ve seen porn. The guys in high school used to play them at parties just to make the girls blush. It never bothered me. But something about talking about it with Ty is…weird.
“First off, you don’t watch porn. You use it,” he says, and I hold up my hand and slide from his lap to my bed. As much as I want to stay in his arms all night, in our dance, right now the urge to bury my face in my pillow is stronger.
“Nope, that’s good. Don’t need to hear any more,” I say, and he pulls himself close to me, leaving his chair and lying flat alongside me. When I try to cover my face with my hands, he pulls them away.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s actually a really amazing business concept with high levels of demand and never-ending supply,” he says, talking about it like a commodity. “We should watch one.”
“Oooohhhhh kay. I think we’re done talking about porn now,” I say, red again, only to find him getting closer, teasing me.
“You know, that’s what I’m getting my MBA for,” he says, and my head snaps to him, I’m sure my eyes are wide and full of shock. “Oh yeah, I’m going to invest heavily in the industry. There’s a ton of scratch to be made.”
I hold his stare, trying to read his face, figure out if he’s bluffing me. Ty is good. He could sell anything—even this story. Holding my breath, I wait, nodding lightly like I’m considering what he said, like I think there might be some truth to it, and he ups his game, shrugging. Holy fuck, I think he’s serious!
“You cannot be serious? What does your mother think?” I’m holding my arms stiff against his chest now. He wraps his hands slowly around my forearms and slides them up, over my shoulders and into my hair, pulling me close again, bringing his lips close to mine. I’m still making an incredulous face, but he’s ignoring it, his lips coming closer, closer, until I can feel the tickle of the static electricity working between us, pulling us together the rest of the way. And then there it is—the dimple. The smile.
“I’m totally fucking with you,” he smirks. I bring my pillow up to his face and smack him across the head.
“I hate it when you do that!” I say, even though I don’t. I love it.
“You liar. You love it,” he says.
I do. I love it. I love you. I love you, Tyson Preeter. I love you. I love you. I love you. My lips almost feel like they’re moving. But they’re not. They’re not, because I’m scared. Fucking chicken. God, Cass…just say it!
There’s a pause in everything—Ty’s hands stop their movement, his eyes don’t blink, his breath holds, my pulse slows and then races. We’ve stopped time—I can feel it. It doesn’t begin again until he sweeps his eyes upward as his fingers pull a stray wave of hair back in place over my head. His eyes stay on that hair for a few seconds before coming back to my gaze. His head tilts. His hands cradle my face. His focus on me, everything me, and all I see are his eyes, blue and honest and vulnerable. Every thought in his head is racing behind them, and I can read what’s inside. I see it. He loves me too. I know he does.