The Bad Boy Theory (Radish)

3. Sneezing on the Roof

CHAPTER 3

Sneezing on the Roof

There was a small wooden table and two director's chairs on the balcony. He took the left one. I took the right, trying to stop myself from fidgeting. He didn't look fidgety though. He just looked down at his lap as I looked at him, questions burning in my head.

Do you like me at all? I mean, you wouldn't have bothered to come if you didn't, right? But why are you acting like this? Why have you been playing with me? Just, God, say anything! Say-

His eyes darted up to my face, interrupting my mental jabber.

"You're not sitting next to me," he said. He obviously had to never make any sense.

"What?"

"You sat opposite me instead of next to me. I don't like that." He sounded immature, but that characterization didn't stay in my head for too long. Because his eyes scrutinized my face in an eager, greedy way, as they never had before. His gaze was rated Mature, for sure.

"I just need you close," he said.

I sort of choked and started feeling my heart trying to jump out of my chest at the sound of those words. He smiled, showing off his dimples, because he noticed. He knew what he did to me.

Rat bastard.

"You know what?" I sat back into my chair. "Since you're having such a problem with this, you should've waited for me to sit down first, like gentlemen do, and then move your seat next to mine."

His smile was gone. "I'm not a gentleman."

I had to laugh. "No shit!"

He shook his head. "I'm not laughing."

"Who cares? I am."

He stared, and oh, he liked that. He liked me talking back to him. His lips parted, eyes flickering to my neck. "Come and sit next to me. Please."

He was good-I had to give him that. But I didn't want to.

"You want to sit next to me, you move yourself."

He huffed, rubbing his forehead. He took a deep breath. When our gazes met again, he seemed resigned, surrendered. He straightened up, picked up his chair and brought it next to mine.

I was the one who had won our little battle of stubbornness.

Yet when he sat next to me, he was the one whose posture relaxed.

"So much better." He closed his eyes for a second. "This is why I've been sitting next to you during class all this time."

Uh, what now?

"I lost the why."

He bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed actually timid, from one moment to the other. "When you're next to me, I feel right."

Now that made even more sense to me.

Not.

"You feel right," I repeated.

"I mean . . ." He shifted in his seat. "What I mean is that being next to you brings me to a state, where, uh . . ."

I waited for him to finish. To just, understand what was going on in his head.

"I feel balanced," he said in an even tone.

I heard myself make a bizarre wheezy sound. "Um, what does that mean? Is it, like, a metaphor or a code for something?" I asked, trying and failing to joke. To make things worse, he remained serious.