I Wanna Text You Up (Page 13)

Me: I’m not going to lie, I’m laughing so hard right now.

Caleb: This is a time of crisis. This is NOT the time to laugh.

Me: Rocky Horror is NOT a horror movie. It’s a musical.

Caleb: I’m sorry…you want ME to watch a musical?

Caleb: You just talked me off my rage-quit cliff. Thanks, pal.

Me: NO! We. Are. Going. Offer up that sexy body of yours to your co-workers to get them to switch shifts with you or something.

Caleb: Two things. ONE: Did you just ask me to exchange sex for a night off to watch a musical? TWO: Did you just call me sexy? *waggles brows*

Me: ONE: Yes. TWO: Don’t pretend you don’t know you’re dead sexy.

Caleb: DEAD sexy, huh? That’s like, sexy times 10.

Caleb: You so want me.

Me: I want you to bang your co-worker so we can go see Rocky Horror, yes.

Caleb: Yeah, not happening. I’ll figure it out.

Me: So that means you WANT to go see the show?

Caleb: No, it means I made a promise and a deal is a deal.

Caleb: Plus, I’m hoping you’re going to let me touch your butt at some point.

Me: Stop flirting and go work.

Caleb: So bossy. Me likey. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Me: *groans*

I was wrong.

There’s a whole lot of wrong flirting can do.

It can make you miss someone, make you crave them, make you want them more than you already do, especially when you’re not supposed to want them at all.

I hate flirting, but I can’t stop it now.

Just like I can’t stop myself from reaching for my phone to do the same thing I’ve done over and over again.

Text him.

Me: Are you awake yet?

Caleb: Am I out there sitting next to you while you eat cereal (SHAME) and watch Rugrats?

Caleb: What channel did you find that on?

Me: No you’re not, but you’re obviously up, and I have it on DVD. It’s called Amazon.

Caleb: Wow. Never heard of that before. /sarcasm

Me: You’re sassy first thing in the afternoon. Bum.

Caleb: Some of us work for a living, smartass.

Me: GASP! I work! Like ten hours a week, but still.

Me: Just get out here or I’m coming in there.

Caleb: No. I’m comfy.

I toss my phone onto the couch beside me and set my empty bowl of cereal on the table before pushing myself up and making my way down the hall.

“Go away,” he moans as soon as I burst through the door, almost as if he was expecting me.

I pause to admire the sliver of skin that’s exposed, but only for a moment. His sheet is wrapped around his lower half, shirt pushed up to display his magnificent abs. Goddamn those abs.

“Stop checking me out and go away.”

I peel my eyes away from his body to see that he’s staring at me, a smirk gracing his plump lips.

“Told ya you want me.” His speech is slow and relaxed. His blond hair is a mess, his eyes tired from lack of rest.

“You wish I wanted you,” I tell him as I make my way closer to his makeshift bed on the floor and sit down next to him, my back against the wall. I leave just enough room between us so we aren’t touching. I’m careful to avoid his brace, because the last thing I want to do is accidentally bump into his already fractured hand. “We really need to get you a bed. This floor has got to be killing your back.”

“I don’t need a bed.” He closes his eyes and shimmies around until he’s comfortable. “Unnecessary expense.”

“Your cat has three beds. Explain that.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Mittens has a bed-hoarding problem. He’s in therapy for it. Don’t judge him.”

“We’re getting you a damn bed, Caleb. We’ll go shopping this weekend.”

“You gonna shit out the cash to pay for one?”

“If I need to, then yes. It’s not good for you to sleep on the floor. For someone who’s all about keeping his body in shape, you should be aware of that.”

He peeks up at me. “Fair point. I’ll try to pencil you in this weekend then.”

“Good. That’s all I wanted.”

“Is that why you came in to bother me? My lack of a bed?”

“No.” I shrug. “Maybe. I’m bored.”

“Rugrats not holding your attention?”

“It is.” But you’re holding it more. “How’d you know that’s what I was watching anyway?”

“I can hear it. You’re very loud, ya know.”

“Sorry, I was trying to be quiet.”

“You suck at it.” I push at his shoulder. “What? Your footsteps sound like there’s a giant clamoring around the apartment.”

“They do not!”

“If you didn’t have such big feet…”

I gasp. “I do not have big feet!”

“Whatever you say, Ronald.”

“Hey!”

I shove at his arm again, and this time he reacts. I don’t have the chance to make a run for it before I’m pinned halfway beneath him. He’s canted off to his left side, avoiding putting much pressure on his right hand. His big hands gently hold mine captive beside my head as he smiles down at me. I don’t know if I should swoon over his upper body strength or throw my panties at him.

I’ve always been touchy-feely with my friends, so I don’t bat an eye at Caleb capturing me beneath him.

“Quit hitting me.”

“I didn’t hit you, I shoved you—big difference.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s too early for you to be such a donkey.”

“We already talked about this—it’s not early, you’re just lazy.”

“You’re mean.”

“You like it.”

Caleb grins. “Maybe a little bit.”

“A lot?”

“A little.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Caleb.”

He leans into me, somehow still holding his lower half off me, and brings his lips to my ear.

That right there—the brush of his lips against my ear—that’s what registers with me.

Holy fuck. Caleb’s on top of me.

My heart accelerates. The thoughts running through my head are not thoughts I should be having, but I can’t stop them from playing on repeat.

Stop it, Zoe. He’s your friend, your roommate—that’s it.

But I flirt with him…

I flirt with everyone!

But Caleb’s different…

Fuck.

He is. He’s so different.

Part of me feels guilty for flirting with Delia’s ex-boyfriend, but they’re exes for a reason, and that has to count for something…right?

“Why are you in here, Zoe?”

“I already told you—I’m bored.”

His eyes find mine again. “Bored? Or you missed me?”

We stare at one another, both waiting for me to answer.

Caleb’s eyes dart to my mouth and linger there. Several seconds pass before he brings his gaze back to mine.

“Well?”

I don’t answer him because we both know I don’t need to.

I push at him as best I can and he takes the hint, moving away in an instant. He rolls until we’re lying side by side, his head resting on his pillow again.

His eyes drift closed and we surrender to the silence, lying there for several heartbeats before either of us speaks again.

“How’d you know I was eating cereal too?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Because I know you. I see your cereal bowls in the sink every morning. I think you’re addicted to the stuff.”

“Am not.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I roll over until I’m facing him and watch as his chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern. “You’re not wrong there. I couldn’t even lie to my parents as a kid. I tried sneaking out once, made it all the way to the end of the driveway before the guilt ate away at me and I turned back and rang the doorbell, crying and apologizing like a moron.”

“What’d they do?”

“Laughed. They had heard me climbing out my window and then watched from behind the curtains.”

“See? I told you your feet were big.”

I kick at him and he somehow manages to trap my feet between his legs. Neither of us makes a move to separate.

“They sound cool—your parents, I mean,” he says.

“I feel like I won the lottery when it comes to them. It was touch and go for a while, but they finally found me and I got my forever family.”

He turns my way, pushing himself up until he’s resting his head on his hand, our feet still tangled together. “Back it up—you’re adopted?”

“Delia never told you?”

“No. We didn’t really talk about you though. No offense, we just didn’t dig that deep into our lives.”

“Does she know where you go on Sundays?” I don’t know why I ask it and I don’t know why I care, but I do.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

His eyes spark with interest at my answer, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “You said it took you a while to find your family?”

“I was placed with them when I was six. They were the first ones to stick. My birth mother gave me up when I was two and then I sort of bounced around in the system. Everyone wants babies, not toddlers.”