Page 45 of Return Policy
“What?”
“You sent the football team on a scavenger hunt to find my sketchbook?”
He grins proudly, the mattress dipping as he sits next to me. “I guess you could call it that.”
I shield a smile as my fingertips dance over the sketchbook in my lap. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He turns toward me, our knees brushing in the process, and my tongue gets stuck in my throat as he places his rough, warm hand over mine. “Are you okay now?” he asks sincerely, looking so deeply into my eyes I canfeelthe concern in them.He was worried about me.
“Yes.” I flip my palm to meet his, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you again.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” The corner of his mouth curves upward. “You needed me, and I’m glad you let me be there for you.”
My eyes drop to our connected hands, and I struggle to breathe as I gather the courage to ask a question that terrifies me. “Did you look inside?”
“Of course not,” he answers quickly, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as he looks down at me with those electric blue eyes. “If there’s something you want me to see, I’m confident you’ll show me yourself.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear as I resist the urge to lean into his touch. “Is this why you were keeping to yourself last week?”
“I’m really sorry.” I shake my head. “There was some… family stuff going on and… I’m sorry.” The hurt in his eyes makes me feel guilty for the cold shoulder.
“It’s okay.” His tone is sincere as he blinks away any previous disappointment. “But next time, I’d appreciate a heads-up when you need some time for yourself.” He places his palm on my neck, grazing his thumb against my throat. “I was really worried about you.”
My heart swells at the admission. “I’m sorry I made you worry. I promise not to do that again.”
“Good… I almost looked for your dorm like a crazy stalker.”
I throw my head back, laughing, veins buzzing with nervous energy at the thought. “Damn, quadruple texting. Stalking my dorm. What have I done to you?”
A soft chuckle escapes his lips. “I think you’ve broken me.”
I’m next…
Elijah Anderson will ruin me, and I’m going to thank him for it.
14
ELIJAH
“Bro, you’re playing awful today,” I tell Julian, who’s currently sucking ass at Madden on the PS4.
“Sorry my thumbs aren’t as magical as my dick,” he grumbles, slamming all the wrong buttons.
“Okay, okay, let’s stop before you hurt yourself.” I laugh, and we pass the controllers to Noah and Theo. I get up and go to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle.
“Beer me,” Julian says, holding out his hands, and I toss him a can.
“So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?” Noah asks as his gaze stays locked on the TV. “Last Saturday off for a while.”
“It’s going to be hot as shit,” Julian points out, as if we aren’t all painfully aware of Florida’s hellscape climate. “Pool day?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think bigger.”
“Boats andhoessss,” Theo calls from his position on the couch.
“Sorry, sailor.” Julian chuckles. “My parents are in the Bahamas for a few weeks with it. So no boat.”
“Damn it,” Theo groans.
“Beachday?” Julian suggests, cocking a brow.
