you were my best four years

Chapter 17

"Hey, Newt, do you - oh my God, my eyes!"

Thomas and Newt quickly scramble away from each other, cheeks flushed and tongues stuttering. Newt flattens out his shirt, speedily zips up his pants, before turning towards his intrusive sister, "May I help you?"

Sonya shielded her eyes the moment she walked - no, barged - into Newt's bedroom, and dares to take a peak at the situation before her. Poor, red-faced Thomas can't stop thinking about how much he wants to jump out the window into the crisp and breezy March air.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come shopping for a gift for Mum with me, but I see you're busy."

An itchy silence falls over the room, and Thomas still wants to jump out the window.

Newt turns to him, his mouth already forming an apology, before a small smile falls over Thomas's face. He puts his finger on Newt's lips and says, "Go ahead, it's okay. I have to create a ten minute presentation on how to fix Greece's economy that's due tomorrow. If you're gone, I might actually get something done."

Newt rolls his eyes but smirks. "Well, we were getting something done. Are you going to stay here?"

"Maybe. I might even go to that place on campus that has shelves full of expensive textbooks with all the information that I need in a quiet setting. What's it called? Oh right, a library! You should go there some time."

"Oh, stop being such a smart arse." Newt bites his lip to hide a smile. He grabs his jacket off the nightstand behind him and presses a quick kiss to Thomas's cheek. "I'll see you later, love. And when I'm back, I can pay extra special attention to your -"

"Newt!" Sonya exclaims, her hands traveling to her ears instead. "I can hear you!"

"I forgot about her for a moment," Newt murmurs. He kisses Thomas once more before disappearing out the door, bickering with his embarrassed sister.

Slowly, Thomas starts to think this is what love must feel like.

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"I have an idea."

"No," Thomas immediately says, thumbing through the pages in his textbook.

Minho's jaw drops. "I haven't even said what it is yet!"

"The last time you had a supposedly amazing idea, I ended up with food poisoning. So again, no."

"I promise I won't ask you to drink spoiled milk and pink steak when you're drunk again," Minho says casually, as if the memory of Thomas hurling all over the apartment wasn't even slightly traumatizing. "I just need your help."

This grabs Thomas's attention. He looks up from the page he's reading in relief, "You're having trouble with the presentation? I have fifteen slides filled with bullshit information that barely adds up to two minutes -"

"Fuck the presentation, I finished that two weeks ago," Minho waves his hand in the air. "This is something that is going to define us for the rest of our lives."

"You finished your presentation two weeks ago?!" Thomas asks, confused by how Minho could have finished such a feat.

"Damn it Thomas, forget about the fucking presentation - you, out of all people, are sure as hell not going to save Greece."

"Are you sweet-talking me because you'll think it'll make me say yes to your ridiculous idea?"

"I want you to help me convince the others that to go to Punta Cana for Spring Break."