When the work gets too hard, or I get too frustrated, he makes me take a break. He puts a PlayStation controller in my hands—Tess has just finally given our electronics back, although it’s admittedly a blessing and a curse with Justin around—and tells me to sit. We’ll play a quick match with Parrish and Maxx, and then hit the books again.
The night before last, I fell asleep with my face on my iPad, slumped over the dining table, and woke up to Maxx carrying me up the stairs. He deposited me in bed with Parrish, and even if we didn’t have a chance for anything intimate, at least we were able to cuddle.
Not so tonight.
I stand in my doorway and Parrish stands in his, and it’s like that night all over again.
I scrub both hands over my face and drop them to my sides, looking up to see him giving me a sympathetic half-smile in response. He knows what I’m thinking about right now.
“Don’t worry: I’ve got your two other boyfriends to defend me this time. I can’t possibly be kidnapped.” I give Parrish a look, but his smile just gets bigger and cockier. “Or maybe you’re just sexually frustrated,” he whispers, leaning down toward me.
I can feel his breath on my lips, and the warmth of it makes me shiver. I cannot even believe that we’ve gone three nights without anything else happening between us. Each day, the tension rachets up even higher. Each day, I want him just a little bit more. Based on his expression now, and the way he touches and kisses me every chance he gets, I don’t doubt that the feeling’s mutual.
“I don’t want to sleep by myself,” I admit, glancing back at my room with a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. The last of the exams were yesterday, so I should feel relieved. Grades are supposed to be posted Saturday morning, so until then, there’s nothing more I can do. I’m simultaneously relieved that it’s over, but also filled with this deep-seated fear that chills me to the bones.
What if I didn’t get the grades that Justin asked for? What then? I don’t get to see Maxine? Or … something worse?
There’s also the other carrot that Justine dangled before me: the chance to speak to my grandparents.
My psyche needs that; my heart needs that.
Parrish glances down the hall toward the cracked door of Tess’ office before moving forward and pushing me into my room. He kicks the door closed behind him and then slides his fingers into my hair, bringing his lips down to meet mine. Our mouths slant together as he sweeps his tongue against mine in a slow, lazy arc, like we have all the time in the world as opposed to none at all.
I can hear Tess coming this way already.
Did she see us on the hall cam? We weren’t doing anything, and the audio on those cameras isn’t good enough to pick up our slight whispers. More than likely, she just wants to see if I’m in my room.
I am, unfortunately, but I’m also closed in here and kissing Parrish.
“Prom night’s tomorrow,” he whispers, licking the shell of my ear and making me shiver. “And we’re going to enjoy every second of our private afterparty.”
I shove him back and turn away just in time for Tess to knock and then, without waiting for an answer, open the door.
“What are you two doing in here?” she asks, attempting to keep the question light and breezy, but failing miserably. I can see that she’s bothered by the idea of us alone in here with the door closed. Does she sense the attraction between me and Parrish? Or maybe it’s in the little tells, the way we’re always standing or sitting so close, the way we smile at each other, the furtive glances.
It must be obvious to the entire world that we’re in love.
Just as it’s obvious to Parrish how I feel about Chasm and Maxx.
“Going over my study sheet for tomorrow,” Parrish says nonchalantly, waving his right hand around in a dismissive fashion. To be fair, there is an iPad sitting on my bed. There could be a study sheet on its darkened screen. Tess looks at it and then over at me, forcing a smile onto her face.
“Are you excited to go shopping tomorrow?” she asks me, but I’m not entirely sure if I am or not. Maybe? Tess and I made some progress while Parrish was gone, but there’s always the chance she might slip back into her old ways.
“I am,” I say, making myself smile, giving myself permission to relax for a moment. Exams are over, for better or worse. And I haven’t been stripped down naked and sliced up with utility knives since Monday, lucky me. The tension at Whitehall has been thick enough to cut with a knife—hah, a pun—but there hasn’t been any movement in days.
