Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
When Emil spotted me, he left his friends and came over. “All okay?”
“Yeah, actually. I had dinner with my parents, and we hashed it all out.”
He grinned. “I can see how relieved you are.”
“Yeah, thanks for asking.” I looked toward the exit. “Probably gonna head out.”
“Not feeling it tonight?”
“Nah, was hoping you’d be interested in watching Slay. I mean, when you get home.”
His smile was blinding. “Does this mean our bromance status is still intact?”
Ugh, I hated that he still made my stomach all wobbly. “Definitely.”
“Will there be facials involved?” he asked.
“That’s a no.”
“How about nail-painting?”
I glanced at his hands. He was due for a new coat of the bright blue he normally wore. “Double no.”
He laughed. “Popcorn?”
“Now you’re talking.” We fist-bumped. “See you later.”
And though I’d vetoed most of those ideas, I still lined up his mask cream and nail polish next to the large bowl of popcorn on his desk.
21
EMIL
Things between Bones and me had mostly been back to normal, and that was as much a relief as it wasn’t. Except ever since our conversation about what he’d said under anesthesia, he was careful not to fall asleep in my bed—as if he didn’t want to rock the boat again or make me feel pressured. I had to bite my tongue about asking him to stay, though him leaving was the right thing.
Wasn’t it?
But the more he pulled away, the more I realized how much I liked having him in my life. That I was protecting myself, not only because I didn’t want it to be awkward between us but because I didn’t want to get hurt.
I was in the student center, sitting by myself during a free period. I had a few more pages to finish in my music-theory assignment, but I was distracted—and by what else, if not thinking about my roommate again? About the juxtaposition between last year and this one, how I’d grown to appreciate his goofiness as much as his kisses.
God, those kisses. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I missed them.
And if you went by what he’d confessed at Urgent Care, so did he—though technically, he was confused about who I was during that short period of time.
My mouth stretched into a grin as I remembered what he’d said.
“I would make an awesome boyfriend.”
I had no doubt, except…he’d never been one before. What if he realized he was wrong about his crush on me? What if he pulled the same shit my high-school boyfriend had? The Bones from last year might’ve. Had he really changed?
Then I thought about the other stuff he’d spouted off about being—aromantic…? I opened a search window, wondering why I hadn’t done it sooner. When the term popped up on my screen, the definition made sense for him. He’d admitted he’d never felt romantic feelings toward anyone.
And then I saw the other term I couldn’t for the life of me remember. Demiromantic. I knew what demisexual meant—that a person needed to feel a connection to someone in order to have sex. How did demiromantic differ?
And when I clicked on it, I sat there stunned, reading over and over again the words that seemed to fit Bones to a tee. A person who cannot feel romantic toward someone unless there is a deeper connection.
All the little things he’d confessed over the past couple of months came rushing back: “Why do I like being around you, sleeping next to you, the sound of your laugh, and the feel of your skin?”
I shivered. Add in the way he kissed me, the way he needed to kiss me after every time we’d hooked up, and it was like a bell going off in my brain.
He must’ve been so confused before he found a label that fit him. Some people really needed that, and this was a perfect example of why.
I shut my laptop and stared into space, wondering if I was only imagining it. He’d told me he didn’t mean any of that stuff he’d said under anesthesia. Did he mean it? Or was that his way of protecting his heart and our friendship?
As if I’d dreamed him out of thin air, there he was across the room with his football buddies. I watched him for a minute—the messy dark hair matching the scruff that felt rough against my skin when he devoured my lips. That solid body, softer middle, and the goofy grin that made my stomach feel off-kilter, especially when he fell asleep in my bed or begrudgingly applied a face mask just for me—the latter simply because he knew I liked them.
I noticed how his gaze scanned the room until it landed on me. I held my breath as his mouth split into a crooked, wide-toothed smile. The one I now realized must’ve been reserved for me. Ah, fuck. I was in over my head.