He hums, sounding like he’s already halfway there, his soft breaths warming the top of my head. This is probably my favorite place now—all alone with him, curled up against his body as his hand makes the little idle rubs against whatever part of me is closest. When he’s tired like this, his movements will slow, falter, before starting back up in a random bout of renewed vigor, like he’s fighting not to nod off.
When his hand finally goes still, breath evening out, I let my eyes close, wondering where we’re going to be in four months.
“Oops!” Startled awake at the sound, I turn my head to see Georgia in the doorway. I can tell from the light in the room that it’s almost dark outside now. She shifts her feet, eyes apologetic. “Need the room?”
I stretch my legs, yawning. “No, we just fell asleep for a bit. It’s all good.”
Looking relieved, she enters the room, closing the door behind her. “Thank god. I cannot handle anymore prom shit. The hourly texts from my mom about choosing a date are bad enough.”
Bass, still sound asleep, lets out a little whuff when I roll over. “Still no candidates?”
She wrinkles her nose, head shaking. “You’re lucky, snagging a Wilcox. My mom’s convinced I’m doomed to utter destitution unless I lock down someone rich and popular within the next month.” She rolls her eyes, flopping back into her bed. “George never has to deal with this crap.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Who’s George?”
She gives me a strange look. “Uh, my brother?”
I sit up, still feeling half asleep. “You have a brother?” I gawk at her. “Named George?”
“Duh.” She points to a photo on her desk of her and some guy, standing with bland smiles in front of a decked-out fireplace. “Twin brother.”
“Your twin?!” Sebastian stirs and I whirl around to him. He blinks up at me, looking momentarily confused. “Georgia has a twin brother named George?”
He chuffs a low laugh. “I know.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because,” he explains, pushing himself up. “It sounds so fucking ridiculous that you wouldn’t have believed it, anyway.”
Georgia rolls her eyes at him. “George is George. We don’t really hang in the same circles. Or squares. Or rectangles.”
Sebastian looks at me, translating, “He’s a loser.”
“Don’t call my brother a loser!” Georgia cries, throwing her pillow at him. “Only I’m allowed to call him a loser.” She looks at me, asserting. “He’s a loser.”
“Good to know.”
Sebastian stands, pulling on his shoes. “I’m going to go grab something to eat. Any takers?”
Georgia waves him off. “I already made Carlton buy me pizza.”
“I’m in,” I say, reaching for my own shoes.
“You still need to give me that list,” he suddenly says, still clearly blinking sleep from his eyes. “The film and shit?”
Ah, right. “I decided to just take a few rolls. I’ve got it covered.”
It’s a bit of a bummer, sure. A big part of the appeal of a huge summer road trip had been the ability to take a shit-ton of photos.
He pauses, throwing me a confused glance. “What? A few rolls isn’t going to even get you out of the state.”
Sighing, I explain, “I won’t be here next year, and I don’t know where I’ll be next year. I won’t have a way to develop them myself, so just…” I flick a hand dismissively. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll save up for a digital—” My mouth clamps shut at the sudden spark in his eyes. “No.”
“Let me buy you one,” he bursts, even though my head is already shaking. Fuck, big mistake. If there’s one thing Bass loves, it’s blowing truly absurd amounts of money. “Come on! I’ve been trying to get you into digital for weeks now.”
“No!” I say, voice firm. “It’s too much. I hate it when you buy me shit. You never just get me something sufficient, you always go over the fucking top!”
“One camera,” he insists, pulling my hands into his chest. “Maybe some lenses or whatever fancy bullshit comes with it. It can be a graduation present.”