Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 28

Lo

I wake the next morning to a quiet dorm. Sam's comforter and sheets are crumpled into a pile that makes it completely impossible to determine whether he's in bed or not. I scroll through my phone—two texts from Jill; I'd forgotten to respond after Sam returned last night and now she's worried—and am hitting Send on a confirmation that I am, in fact, alive, when Sam enters the room. His eyes are bloodshot and he throws himself onto his unmade bed.

I can't stop myself. "Hey, beautiful," I tease.

Sam slaps an arm over his eyes. "So hungover," he groans.

"Serves you right," I snort. He jerks his head, peering at me from under his arm.

"Excuse me?"

"Serves you right," I say, more clearly this time. I hop out of bed, pulling the string to open our blinds as I do.

Sam growls, grimacing, and I can't help but laugh at his melodrama.

"Can you get me a Gatorade from the common room?" he mumbles.

Now it's my turn to ask that he repeat himself. When he does, I laugh again. "I'm not getting you anything. Do you even remember last night?"

Sam's lips twitch into an amused grin. "I remember you wanted to kiss me."

My naïve, disloyal heart flips in my chest. I don't say anything, and Sam's grin grows into a full-blown smile. He removes his arm from his face and leans up, imploring. "Please, Somers. I'll owe you."

It takes me a second to register that he's talking about the Gatorade, and I'm so flustered I'm already moving before I can say no. The halls are blissfully void of my classmates this morning, and I make it to and from the common room without running into a soul. The door to 208 begins to open as I pass, and I speed up, throwing myself into my room before Jared can catch sight of me and try to chat. He's been unusually friendly the past couple days and I'm not sure what he's after, but I'm fairly certain it's not good.

Sam's still groaning on the bed when I approach him, one arm thrown back over his eyes.

"You are such a baby," I mutter, twisting the cap off his drink and swigging from it before handing it over. He takes a long slug, sighing in pleasure. I can't seem to tear my eyes from his throat, which gulps the liquid in a way I'm finding much too attractive. Is there a such thing as an Adams Apple fetish? If so, I might be in trouble.

Sam replaces the cap on the bottle and slides it onto the nightstand beside him before sitting up and gazing blearily at me. "I forgot you were wearing that."

"Don't start."

Sam reaches a hand out, drifting his warm fingers over the bare skin of my thigh, just above my knee. I shiver but don't step away.

"I can't believe I didn't kiss you last night."

"Sam," I warn.

"I know. I said I was going to fix this and I will. Before we get to any of the good stuff."

He sounds put out with the last and a laugh rises from my throat unbidden. So it wasn't a dream.

Sam grins at my giggle and our eyes lock, his face growing suddenly serious as his gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth and then lower, taking me in. He draws his fingers up my leg until he's reached the hem of my shorts. His touch is feather-light, but my heart moves to my throat with it. And when his eyes lift to meet mine again, I can see my own shock and need reflected in his.

My chest feels tight and my stomach is coiled. I want to lean into his touch. Watching me, searching my face as if trying read my thoughts, he tugs gently at the bottom of my shorts. It snaps my brain back to reality. I cross my arms over my chest and step back, finally, breaking the spell.

"Okay, you're right." Sam swings himself to sitting, grimacing as his headache settles. "But you have to stay over there." He points to my bed.

I lift my eyebrows. "What? Why?"

"I can't control myself."

And just like that, I'm annoyed again. "Learn to."

"Somers, why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

I respond with an arched eyebrow.

He returns the gesture. "Look, I'm doing everything in my power not to touch you, but I'm already weak with hangover, and you look like candy in those shorts."

"If I didn't like you, this would be harassment. You know that, right?"

"Are you saying you like me?"

"I'm saying I'm not calling it harassment, yet. Don't push me."

Sam grins, a little smug, and shifts so that his back is against the wall. "Fine. Stay right where you are, and I can apologize while proving what an upstanding gentleman I am."

I snort. "Go on, then."