{18+ COMPLETED • COLLEGE ROMANCE}
When a college freshman with a learning disability and a reputation collides with a straight-A, straight-laced girl in the dorm kitchen one night, he sees the darkest parts of himself reflected in her. But the two o...
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November Twenty-Eighth
Five
The stars call to you and him.
They make shapes in the sky,
spelling out how lucky you can be.
—
It was dusk when Bren popped the top off a beer and slid his gaze over to me. "Want me to make you a drink?"
Beau brought a whole slew of alcohol with him. You'd think we were hosting a rager and not just having drinks on the beach with a few friends. But I looked back at Bren and shook my head. "I don't know if I should drink, to be honest."
Bren's bottle of craft beer was halfway to his lips when he paused and lowered it again. Nessa and Beau were already outside, making a fire on the beach. I could hear them bickering about the right way to do it from here.
"It's just...I've had a few days without headaches, and I'd kinda like to keep it that way." I shrugged.
Bren set his bottle on the kitchen countertop. "Okay. I don't have to drink either, then."
"No, no." Bren had sacrificed enough for me. He deserved to let loose and hang out with his friends—just like he'd probably be doing on a Friday night in Oakland. He said he didn't miss that stuff, but I'm sure there was a part of him that did. "Go ahead, have some drinks. It's fine, Bren."
The look he gave me was skeptical.
"I'm gonna be pissed if you don't drink that beer, Bren Hadaway."
Bren raised a brow, his smile curving wider as he brought the drink back to his mouth. He took a slow sip. Dark brown eyes watched me over the curve of the glass as he tipped his head back and wrapped his lips around the bottle. The beer slid into his throat, and he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Then Bren lowered the bottle a bit, lips sliding off the rim again. His eyelids fluttered; they were nearly half-closed. "You know," he said huskily, "It's kinda hot when you scold me like that."
Oh, god. If Bren was going to do shit like that all night, I wouldn't make it. Even watching him take a drink of his beer was turning me on. Especially after yesterday when he'd accomplished amazing things with that mouth—things I'd never felt before him.
"If you guys need to take a few minutes to go back upstairs and get something out of your system, I mean, we can wait." Beau slid through the door and into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer for himself off the counter. He eyed us both.
Bren snorted. He clapped a hand on Beau's shoulder and leaned toward him to mutter, "Few minutes wouldn't do it, man." And then he strode outside into the night.
Beau's eyes widened comically as his head jerked in the direction that Bren had disappeared and then back to me. Then he did it again and then again, and I worried he was going to get dizzy.
