Finley
Eddie and I have one cup left. And it’s my turn. Problem is that Alex and Dima have only two cups left, which means I’ve drank a lot of beer. And my partner is really cute. (Is it fair to call him cute? I hated on cute a little while ago.) So he’s distracting. Like right now. Eddie’s hands land on my shoulders, and he massages them, boxing ring–style.
“You ready for this?” he asks. “Still seeing singles? Just one cup down there, right?”
I squint and focus on the other end of the table. “Yep, one red Solo cup.”
He’s about to let go of me, and I’m not ready for that yet. I reach up and grab his T-shirt, tugging him closer. “I have to tell you something.”
“What?” he asks, all serious.
“I’m not really good at beer pong.” I stare down at the cup and aim. “This is all just a ploy to seduce you.”
“Really?” Eddie asks, and I have to look up at him from over my shoulder. He’s got nice eyes. And a nice chin. Even upside down. “You haven’t missed any shots…”
I ignore Eddie’s logic and continue on my path. “I heard people saying you’re the next big star, so I figured I’d get to you first. I’m good like that. Always thinking about my next big move.”
“Blondie,” Dima says. “Get a move on it.”
Finally, I let go of Eddie’s shirt. But I can feel him close behind me. Before I release the ball, he leans down and whispers, “I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I’m not really good at beer pong,” Eddie says. “This is all a ploy to seduce you.”
I laugh. “Clearly.”
The ball leaves my hand, bounces once on the table, and then plops right into the last cup of beer. I pick up the cup with the ball in it and hand it to Dima. “That’s the game, and that’s what you get for calling me the nice one.”
He shoots a glare at Eddie and then grins at me. “It’s all relative. I mean, compared to you-know-who…” He gives a nod in Summer’s direction. She got bored with our game and is chatting up some guy in the kitchen.
Eve says a quick good-bye to me and Eddie and then drags Alex out of the apartment. He doesn’t look drunk. Much.
I wave my hand over my face, fanning it. All the people packed in a small apartment have made it stifling in here. I head for the back door, and Eddie follows right behind.
“Where are you going?” he asks, worried.
Cute.
“Just getting some air.” I snatch a water bottle from the kitchen counter. “It’s hot in here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Eddie offers. “In case there are balance problems.”
I give him this look like he’s crazy. “I just won beer pong. My balance is amazing.”
Dima’s balcony is identical to mine except without plastic furniture. I lean over the railing and look. This must make Eddie nervous, because he rushes over and casually rests a hand on my back.
“I live right there…” I point a finger south. When he doesn’t lean over to look, I turn to face him. “I’m fine, I swear. You’re free to go have some party fun. Do some ’shrooms, get laid, get a haircut.”
He laughs. “Get a haircut? At midnight?”
I shrug. “Or a tattoo.”
“I don’t really know anyone in there.” He glances at the sliding glass door and then up at the sky.
“Aw, poor new guy.” I pat his cheek and then leave my hand there for a few seconds. His skin is soft. “No friends. Everyone’s jealous of your big job. What do you do for fun, Eddie?”
Whatever he says is obviously the answer, because somehow he got a big job today, and I didn’t. I bet that’s more hearsay than truth.
“Well…” He slides an inch closer to me. “Sometimes, I like to knit hats for little orphaned dogs. And subway rats.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “Yeah…sorry. You’re not right for the part. Too sweet.”
Because Eddie Wells is not even close to my type, I can just enjoy him and not worry about screwing anything up.
“Is that what he told you?” Eddie asks. “The casting guy?”
I touch a finger to his lips. “Can’t say. It’ll ruin the illusion. I won’t be as interesting.”
He leans into my finger. “Doubtful.”
I can feel my pulse against his lips. I don’t know where this is going, but it isn’t the kind of moment that stops. For a minute, we stay just like that. Neither of us says anything. But Eddie’s got this look like he’s far inside his head. I thought it would be me deliberating this, thinking. Thinking way too much.
I push away from the railing and take a few steps toward the door. “It’s probably time for me to go back downstairs. Want to walk with me? All the stairs, balance issues…”
This isn’t exactly a talent of mine, asking guys back to my apartment. I’ve only done it, like, never. So maybe I’m wrong about Eddie’s hesitations. Maybe he’s being polite. And when I leave, he does follow me. Even grabs a backpack near the door.
I try not to look at Summer when we exit Dima’s apartment. I stay a couple steps in front of Eddie on the walk to my front door.
I could just ask him to come inside and hang out.
But maybe we’ll get in my room, and I won’t even want to do more than kiss him. Is that allowed? I don’t know the rules.
Because the beer is still talking for me, I blurt out those exact words.
“What rules?” Eddie asks. His forehead wrinkles. He cups the back of his neck with his hand, his shirt lifting, revealing a strip of his abs.
I almost chicken out. But then I keep thinking about this feeling and how it might not be here tomorrow and how much I like it. How much I want to follow the path in this mysterious tunnel and see where it leads.
“Rules,” I repeat. “Like if I ask you to hang out in my apartment and you say yes and then—”
He nods, catching on. “Right. Those rules.”
Yeah, you know them, Eddie. Probably much better than I do.
But that doesn’t sound too bad, a guy who knows what he’s doing. My heart is slamming against my chest now. That was a lot of bold in one sentence. But my unskilled beer pong partner maybe isn’t so impressed with my bold streak. “My ‘nice’ label scared you off, huh?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s not that.” He rakes a hand through his hair.
Now I’m just plain curious. Not like I haven’t caught him looking at me several times tonight. Not like he hasn’t found excuses to touch me. So what then? “Oh, you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he says with just the right amount of time between my question and his answer—not too quick, not too much thought.
“Okay, what then?” I hope that doesn’t sound pushy. I’m honestly curious.
Eddie doesn’t say anything. Just moves closer, lifts a hand, and picks up the cross on my chest.
“Oh, that,” I say, trying to calm my heart with his fingers right near it. “I also have a poster of Jesus above my bed. Wanna see it?”
Eddie laughs, the tension finally breaking. “Yeah, okay. What the hell?”
I grin. Finally. He gets it. What the hell? That’s the attitude.
I open the front door and pull him through the apartment as quickly and quietly as possible. The second we’re in the privacy of my own room, Eddie’s hands are in my hair, and he lowers his lips to mine. It’s like we’d both been wanting to do this for hours. I can’t get close enough, can’t get his shirt over his head quick enough.
It’s fast and fun and light. Light as air. Though that could be the beer.