𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

XVIII

Janes pov
This is stupid, I tell myself. So stupid. It's late night, about an hour since I've made it back to my dorm from my night with Michael. And yet, Henry haunts my thoughts. The touch of his fingertips, the promises that rolled off his sharp tongue. Under the sheets of my bed, my fingers are aching to ease the tension between my thighs. My mind is ready to imagine them as his, but I know it can't compare. My delicate fingers can hardly assault me the way he does. And I can't take it. These unwelcome thoughts of him need to leave. I need him out of my system.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I make my way to his dorm. Just to see him. Just to remind myself why I don't like him, because lately, I've been having to remind myself a lot. I just need everything to go back to normal, before all the exchanged glances and the bickering could be mistaken for anything other than annoyance. I walk down the halls, making sure to not alert any staff. I sneak out of the girls building, making my way to the long hallway that connects us to the boys, making my way to his dorm. I just need to see him, and then it'll go away. Like it always does, the spell will wear off. Exhale, I tell myself. Exhale. My knuckles are an inch away from making contact with his door, and this is when I start to doubt myself.

I shouldn't, I really, really shouldn't. Even showing up here tonight, like I always do, he might take it the wrong way. I'd be playing with his feelings. It's so clear he wants more, and yet, he's willing to let me use him, as if he doesn't mind. But I do. I mind. We've only just started acting like we can tolerate each other in a room without insulting one another a million times.

But before I can retract my hand, the door swings open. I'm met with concerned gray eyes and dark brows that are furrowed together. "Are you alright?" He asks, drawing me in. He locks the door behind us.

No, no I don't think I am. Instead of saying that, I blurt out the first thing that comes to my head. "It's about the murders," I start, using that excuse. "The latest one. Michael said something about Simon being last seen at Death&Company." I frown, "Doesn't your dad own that franchise? You could easily access the footage."

Henry runs a hand through his hair, leaving his brown locks even messier than what they usually are. What's worse is that his The Neighborhood shirt rides up, and I can't help but watch as the movement shows me a sliver of skin–his lean abs–and suddenly, I realize coming here was a very bad idea. "I'll have to hack in the tapes, but yes. Will do, m'lady." I hyperfixate on his nickname, his voice. This isn't helping, theory disproved.

"Is that all?" He ask, and I realize that was something I could've just texted him rather than make my way to his dorm just to say a few words in his living room. I rock on my feet, nodding blankly. Henry studies my body language, and I curse all the psychology classes he's taken because a hint of amusement lights his dark eyes. He leans against the bar table, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinizes me under his gaze. "Are you sure there isn't any other reason you're here?"

I shake my head. "Nope. I just thought it'd be best to tell you, since, you know, it's your family's side business, or whatever." I realize I'm rambling and take a step to the hallway, but he steps in blocking my path, and his height towers over mine.

"Why are you really here, Jane?" He asks, in a tone so soft that it's a contrast to his deep voice. "It can be another secret of ours."

"We have too many of those already," I refute, taking a step back to remind myself that I came here to get him out of my system, not in.

"What's another going to do?" He asks innocently, but there's nothing innocent about what he's asking or the step he takes to me. He reaches for my hand, and once he realizes I didn't jerk away, he studies it. He runs the pads of his fingers around the lines of my palms, the joints of my fingers, each skeletal base–as if to study it. His touch feels so good that it hurts, actually hurts. "Jane–"