18. Pinch Me

CHAPTER 18

PINCH ME

ABBI

Weston Griggs is naked in my shower.

Naked. In my shower.

Pinch me!

Getting clean has never been so much fun. We don’t fool around, except for a few kisses. But Weston makes a point of soaping up my back—and my ass. And when I wash his hair he makes appreciative noises and then kisses my neck.

It’s the most fun I’ve ever had on a school day. And I’m sad to leave the warm embrace behind—both Weston’s and the hot water. But we both have things to do. So I pass him a clean towel.

It ought to feel super strange moving around my tiny apartment with a ripped, naked Weston. But the boy is so comfortable with himself and so goofy that it just doesn’t feel awkward.

I’m starting to think that some of his good-natured cheer is a coping mechanism, though. He probably isn’t the world’s happiest human. He’s just learned to find the light-hearted, funny thing in every situation and cling tightly to it.

There are worse traits in a human. I admire him for trying.

“Okay, who can you call to turn up the heat in your apartment?” he asks as we dry off and dress. “Not that I mind the view. It’s very nipply in here,” he says, eyeing my breasts through the bra I’m trying to straighten. “Maybe that’s your landlord’s play.”

“Doubt it. The landlady is a super-cheap octogenarian. She lives on this floor, in a unit at the back of the building. Twice I’ve slipped notes under her door asking for her to turn up the temperature. When that didn’t work, I mailed her a formal request. She never answered. I’m afraid to piss her off too badly. And I only need to live here until May, right?”

“Yeah, but I hate to let the old bat refrigerate you,” Weston presses. “Isn’t there a thermostat you could fiddle with?”

“The controls must be in her apartment. In my apartment, there’s only this metal thing that looks somewhat important. But there’s no way to control it.” I point toward the kitchen, where a dull gray metal rectangle is surrounded by a small metal cage high on the wall.

Weston walks over and stares up at it. “That’s got to be some part of the heat and hot water system,” he agrees. “And you’d never put a valve that far off the ground.”

“Okay…” I don’t know why he’s so interested. “Do you have a plumbing kink I should know about?”

“Baby, plumbing is very sexy.” He gives me a cheesy Weston wink. “But I’m an architect’s kid. I’ve heard a lot of dinner table discussion about heating. And that might be a thermostat.”

“There aren’t any controls on it. I climbed up on the counter once and checked.”

“Let’s just try something. Do you have a spare dish towel or a washcloth?”

“Sure.” I go back into the bathroom and find him a washcloth. “What for?”

He takes it from me and wets it in the kitchen sink. Then he wrings it out. “This will cause evaporation,” he explains, “which will trick the thermostat into thinking that your apartment is even colder than it actually is.” As I watch, he tosses the wet cloth up until it lands on the cage.

And then it promptly slides off again, hitting my floor with a wet slap.

“Huh. Do you have a chair I could stand on?”

“I got it,” I say, walking over to my tiny counter and putting the loaf of bread on top of the drying rack to make a space. Give me a hand?”

Weston makes a sling out of his hands, and I step onto it. A minute later I’m standing on the counter. Weston hands me the cloth and I spread it out over the cage. “What are the chances this will make a difference?”

“Pretty high,” he says. “I think you’ll come home to a warm apartment. You’ll just have to reset the wet towel when you’re cold. Now let’s go eat bagels. I’m starved.”

Weston is magic. And I don’t mean the sex. When I return to my apartment after my morning classes, the place is toasty . It’s mind blowing. I don’t have to freeze anymore, and for a couple of days, the change is a little hard to get used to.

So is Weston, if I’m honest. I’m not accustomed to receiving sexy texts from him in the middle of my day. Or a voice message asking me if I’m okay to walk home after work the next night.

Price only works on the weekends , I remind him. I’m good .

Yes you are , Weston replies, and I blush at my phone. And I should really stay in and study for this test in statistics . But I’d rather walk you home again . He follows that up with a wink emoji.

Pinch me. This can’t be my real life.

I have a lot of studying to do too , I admit. And I’m working the next four nights .

Nooooooo , he types back. I have back-to-back games out of town this weekend . He follows that up with a pouting emoji. Is there any chance you’re free Sunday night?

I am totally free on Sunday night , I reply quickly.

Phew. Let’s have dinner together after I get back to town. I owe you from our bet .

I blink down at this lovely invitation and try not to dance around like a lunatic. I’d love to , I reply instead.

“What is that look on your face? ”

I jump at the sound of Carly’s voice, and I shove my phone into my back pocket. “Just texting with, um, Weston.”

Carly lets out a shriek. “Omigod! I knew it! He’s in lovvvve with you!”

“Shhh!” I hiss. “You’re wrong. We’re just having…” I struggle for words, because this thing with Weston is as hard to explain as it is to believe. “A thing.”

“A thing…” Carly repeats slowly as she shoves a soda glass against the dispenser and fills it with Coke. “Like a relationship? ” There are hearts in her eyes already.

“God no. A fling. A tryst. A convenient arrangement.”

“So you’re not ‘just friends’ anymore.”

“Yes we are,” I insist. We’re just friends who—” I don’t finish the sentence, because Kippy is somewhere nearby and I don’t want to be overheard.

“Oh my God , this is the most exciting thing I’ve heard in a long time. And speaking of long things…is his thing long?” She giggles.

“Stop it,” I hiss. “That’s an inappropriate question.”

She lets out a dreamy sigh. “Fine. But what about his stamina. I’ll bet an athlete like that can go all night.”

I snort. “There will be no details given out.”

“Whyyyy?” she whines. “It’s not like I’ll ever find out for myself. Weston is going to fall for that cute, sassy thing you’ve got going on. You just took him off the market. And they said it couldn’t be done.”

“It’s just temporary,” I insist. “This is just a physical thing until we both move on. I’ll be leaving Vermont before June, you know.”

“Still,” Carly says. “A girl could have a lot of terrific sex in four months. Come on! Just give me one detail.”

I bite my lip, gather up four ketchup bottles and carry them away. I will not gossip about Weston to Carly. Even though I am impressed. And I can say with certainty that hockey players do possess an awful lot of stamina.

“You have a dreamy look on your face,” Carly says with a snicker. “Are you seeing him again tonight?”

“No,” I say. “We’re going out to dinner on Sunday. So nobody had better ask me to work a shift.”

“If he’s taking you out, that sounds like a relationship! ”

“We’re settling up a bet,” I insist. “Stop using that word, Carly. Weston doesn’t do relationships.”

“He hasn’t yet ,” she argues. “You could be his first.”

“It’s never happening,” I tell the both of us. Because I’m not dumb enough to fall in love with him.

Thank goodness for that.