Me: Please…? It’s pouring down rain out here. You really going to make me drive home in this?
It’s a weak excuse. Yes, it’s raining hard, and thunder and lightning have been dancing in the sky for the better part of the day, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. But the sick, obsessive part of my mind wants to see if it’s enough for Bodhi to let me in.
Bodhi: That’s your own fault for driving here.
Me: Pretty please with a cherry on top?
He reads it immediately but doesn’t respond. After a few minutes, I begin to think maybe he really won’t let me in. But then that glorious white bubble pops up.
Bodhi: Fine. But be fucking quiet. My roommates are both home and upstairs sleeping.
Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, I turn off my car and get out, locking it as I make my way up his driveway to the front door. The porch light is off, and before I can even knock, he’s opening it up. He’s wearing a navy-blue crop top that says ‘Baby Girl’ on the front and a pair of blue and white fleece pajama pants. The look on his face is one of pure vexation, which only makes my smirk grow.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” he mumbles as he steps aside, letting me in.
Breezing past, I turn to look at him once I’m standing in the living room. It’s pitch black, but there’s a blue glow coming from a room down the hall, letting me see somewhat. “I think you secretly enjoy it,” I retort.
He stops and looks around for a moment before his gaze lands on me, almost like he doesn’t quite know what to do with me now that I’m here. Finally, he huffs and says, “We can just chill in my room,” before walking past me toward the room with the glow.
Once inside, the first thing I notice is the wide-open window. It’s a fairly warm night, but it is down-pouring. The second thing I notice is the soft music playing from the speaker on his desk. His room is cozy; blue LED lights placed around the space, a bookshelf on the far-right wall filled with books and knick-knacks, a queen-size bed with at least half a dozen fuzzy blankets placed on it, and what looks like a little reading nook in front of the window.
“Why are you here?” His voice is hard, arms crossed over his chest.
“I told you, because you wouldn’t respond to me.”
Scoffing, he says, “That doesn’t just give you the right to come over here whenever you please.”
Taking a step in his direction, I relish the way he has to crank his neck just to keep his eyes on mine. His throat dips as he swallows hard, and I hear him inhale sharply as I run my index finger along his forehead, pushing a stray hair out of the way. “I beg to differ, pretty boy.”
Bodhi won’t meet my gaze, looking anywhere but at me as he continues to chew on his bottom lip. An urge to replace his teeth with mine is strong, but I resist. There’re dark bags under his eyes, making him look exhausted, and his skin looks more pale than usual.
“We can’t…” he starts before taking a deep breath in, letting it out on a shaky exhale. “We can’t do what we did last week again. You can stay here until the storm clears, but it’s gotta be strictly platonic.”
Holding my hands up innocently, I lie and say, “Fine with me.”
He looks at me for a few moments, like he doesn’t believe me, before he turns toward his bed. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess.”
The bed is closer to the speaker, so when I sit with my back against the headboard, I can hear the soft lyrics of whatever song is playing filtering through the tiny Bluetooth. Rain falls from the sky unforgivingly as it beats down on the side of the house, the noise amplified with the open window.
Sitting beside me, the scent of him washes over me; light musk and something tropical. It’s different from his normal scent when we’re out, but it smells just as good. He pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and staring straight ahead. “Were you in the area for something, or did you really come to town for this?”
His voice is hushed and a little shaky. The nerves radiate off him like a life force.
“I really came to town for this.”
“Why?”
“I already told you why, Bodhi.”
“No, I know that.” Dropping his legs flat, he rests his back against the headboard, his knee bouncing while he picks at the skin around his thumb. “I just mean… why me? Look at you—you could have anyone you wanted to, and you’re wasting your time with someone like me.”
This isn’t the first time Bodhi has said something like this or implied that he is somehow less than. I don’t like it. My chest aches with a burning desire to show him just how special he is and exactly why I want him. But I promised to play nice, so I don’t do any of that.
Instead, I ask, “How’s school?” Maybe a little small talk will help.
“It’s fine,” he huffs out, continuing to stare straight ahead.
“What’s your major?”
