His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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C A M I L A
In a sea of students, I'm cozy in my hoodie and sweats, smiling like an idiot during Applied Microeconomics 452A. I'm fiddling with a little note, the edges worn from being handled. Two days ago, I found it slipped into my pocket while walking home from the boys' place.
"Miss Delgado, care to tell us the implications of applying game theory to this scenario?"
My gaze snaps to the chalk-covered board, deciphering the scrawl. "It may predict behaviours of competing firms in this market structure, considering each firm's strategy to maximize payoff, through collusion or competition, could be either."
Prof. White blinks, then nods with a wry smile. "Get a new wardrobe, Miss Delgado."
The dressed-up class murmurs at that—at weirdo delinquent me. I don't want to wear a blazer. Sue me.
Slumping back in my chair, I read my note again.
Noah's writing is beautiful like him, but it's messy. Guy writing.
Roses are red, boxing gloves are blue, Rocky called Adrian, and I'm calling you.
Wanna go out? Eat some...pie? I've got a plan. It's not very sly. Please see below my number, give it a spin, No pressure, though. But we are going on a date. Soon.
At the bottom of the page are two sets of phone numbers—the phone by his bed, and the one at his house.
If those wicked fingers are bored, And you've got time to spare, Dial those digits—if you dare. I'll sit by the phone and stew, Hoping my next history lesson involves you.
With a ridiculous smile, I fold the note back up.
Noah wrote whatever the fuck that is at some point during our pizza dinner. Fox was busy staring at Maddie as she talked about thrifting. Jed showed me his amethyst collection, then I taught him how to do a push-up. So, at some point, Noah penned that down and managed to slide it into my sweater.
I'm so gone.
......
Home's not far, but I slow when I spot them: Maddie and Fox on the porch, dusted in setting sunlight. He's cupping her face, thumbs sweeping something from beneath her eyes.
I duck behind a hedge. Is she crying? Why's she crying? What did he—
She kisses him. Her hands wind into his hair and his slide to her waist, pulling her closer.
Holy goddamn!
When they ease apart, I slap my cheeks into neutrality and walk up, pretending I haven't been watching like a creeper.
