"Sure," I answer, like I’ve been listening attentively.
She smiles shyly, then sits on my bed, crisscross applesauce style.
Fuck.
Nothing about that should turn me the hell on, but it does.
First off, Josie’s on my bed. That pretty much sums up eighty percent of the fantasies I’ve had since we met freshman year. The other twenty percent take place either on her bed, in my car, or wherever I happen to be when said fantasy pops into my brain. A booth at Wolfie’s? Yep. The showers in the locker room? Absolutely. The study corner of the library where we sit several nights a week? Hell-fucking-yes.
So the fact that Josie’s ass is on my comforter right now and I’m tenting my goddamn pants like a fucking novice should not surprise me. But it’s also the way she looks so comfortable, so at home. Like we do this all the time. For a moment, it’s like the last three years never happened. Like we never hit pause, much less stopped. Like we’re the kind of couple who can go the distance. Like we’re woven into every part of each other’s lives, from studying for tests to family holidays and everything in between.
We’re not, of course, and I only have myself to blame. But Josie’s talking again, so I force my brain to focus.
"It’s a little warm in here," she says, rolling up her sleeves.
"It’s hot as Satan’s asshole," I tell her, peeling my hoodie off and tossing it so it lands on my backpack. "Sorry."
"It’s fine. You said your heater was acting up, but wow…you weren’t kidding." She pulls her hair up into a bun on top of her head.
"Yeah. It got cold last week, so somebody cranked the heat up. Like, all the way up. And now it won’t crank down."
Josie takes her glasses off and cleans them with the edge of her cardigan before looking back up at me. "Can you have campus services look at it?"
I wince. "We could. We probably should. But…we’ve made some changes to the place and, well…"
"You don’t want them to come in and freak out?"
"Or shut us down," I answer honestly. We definitely haven’t been taking care of the place. I mean, it was never super nice, but it’s in pretty bad shape now.
Josie glances around and I wonder what she’s about to say. For a second, my heart beats fast and I realize what a dumbass I was for bringing her here. She’s observant as hell, and there’s a very distinct crack running down the wall right by my closet. It got worse when Will started pounding nails on the other side, but it’s always been here. It was here freshman year when this was Friedline’s room. I lived in the dorms then and when Josie came to a party at the hockey house and we started dancing, one thing led to another. I definitely did not set out to have sex in my teammate’s room, but Josie told me she couldn’t wait another second, and no way was I going to deny her.
When I moved in sophomore year, we were picking rooms and my name got drawn first. I chose this one and if anyone thought it was weird that I wanted not only the smallest room,but the one sandwiched in between two other, bigger rooms, they didn’t say anything. And no, I didn’t pick it for sentimental reasons. I happen to like rooms without windows.
Josie shakes her head, like she’s clearing her thoughts and getting ready to go back into tutor mode. "Let’s start looking at the slides," she says, so I open my laptop.
After a quick review of the Wars of the Roses, Josie starts quizzing me. I’m doing ok, except for the fact that sweat is dotting my brow.
She’s hot, too, and not just in the sexy way. Her cheeks are flushed and she keeps pushing up the sleeves of her too-big, old lady cardigan. Huffing in frustration, she unbuttons the damn thing and peels it off. My jaw goes slack. Underneath that fuzzy sweater that surely once belonged to a woman named Dolores, Josie’s wearing a white tank top.
And nothing else.
No bra, no bralette.
Just tank and tits. Perfect fucking tits.
She catches me staring, but I don’t stop.
"I hate wearing bras. I only have two I really like. One’s back at the house and the other is in the laundry. And anyway, they're just boobs," she tells me. "You’ve seen them before."
I have seen them before. And I fucking dream about seeing them again.
She tucks a loose piece of her hair behind her ear and shrugs. "Besides, in the past three years, I’m sure you’ve seen lots of breasts. And what’s the big deal? Like I said, they’re just boobs. Everyone has them, to some degree. And mine aren’t all that impressive."
Something in me snaps. The idea that Josie thinks less of herself kills me, and I can’t let her believe that’s true. The air in this room is thick, and not just because it's a little, windowless block of a room. We’ve both been ignoring the chemistry weshare, but I’m done tiptoeing around it. If I shoot my shot and make a fool of myself, so be it. That’s better than letting Josie think she doesn’t measure up.
"That’s where you’re wrong," I tell her, setting my laptop on the floor and scooting a little closer. "Because, yeah, I’ve seen boobs before. And since the last time we were together, I’ve been with other girls."
She shutters her eyes closed, and I get it. This is dangerous territory for us. If we can’t even talk about what’s happening between us, we probably shouldn’t talk about the people we’ve been with since we broke up. But maybe we need to. I tip her chin up and she looks at me. Right now, I could count all the freckles that dot her nose and cheeks. I could kiss each one. And I want to. But first, I need to give Josie Reynolds—the smartest person on campus—an education.
