All of Me

twelve • hands on

• • •

The house is quiet. I wasn't expecting that. There are sixty brothers living here but I can't hear a single one. Liam shows me the cold-air rooms where he slept for the past two years, the air conditioning set to keep it at fifty with no heating in winter. Ten bunk beds are crowded into the otherwise bare room, a few occupied by napping brothers.

I'm not surprised by the untidiness. The frat may have a chef and a cleaner and a gardener and God knows what else, but that doesn't change the fact that they're college guys. There's just stuff everywhere, from leftover red solo cups to an arsenal of empty bottles and cans that line windowsills and every surface.

"Sorry about the mess," Liam says as he shows me around. The kitchen is by far the cleanest, the only room that the brothers hardly use, until Liam leads me up to the third floor and down a corridor to a room at the end.

It's like we've stepped into another world. The room is big and bright, a huge window set into the sloping ceiling to let the sun pour in, and it's tidy. Two neatly-made double beds are pushed against opposite walls, one beneath the skylight, and a couple of full double-sided bookcases act as a privacy divide.

"This is your room?" I can't keep the incredulity from my voice. Liam chuckles and stands in the middle of the room with his arms spread out.

"Welcome to Casa Alexander," he says. He steps over to the bed beneath the window, the navy covers bathed in warm light. "This one's mine."

His bedside table is empty except for a half-drunk glass of water and a couple of books in an uneven stack beside a lamp. The wall above his bed is decorated with a few posters, nothing too distasteful, and a schedule of the SoLa team's football games.

"You must be the tidiest frat guy ever," I say, staring at the distinct lack of a mess. "Where's all your ... boy crap?"

He laughs and the sun catches his eyes, making them look more green than gray. "Boy crap? The bathroom's over there."

It's not that funny but it gets half a laugh anyway. He shrugs and drops onto the edge of his bed. "I'm just a tidy person, I guess," he says as he kicks off his shoes. I do the same, hoping my feet don't smell too bad, but I don't sit yet. Liam looks up at me, the sun making his cheeks glow.

"I won't bite," he says. "Unless you're into that?"

I roll my eyes. He grins and stands. His hands are on my waist and I don't feel the urge to push him away, as though I can trick him into thinking I'm smaller if he just doesn't touch me: I let him feel the curve where my waist broadens to my hips.

His fingers meet at the small of my back and he pulls me closer, tilting his head down to kiss me. This is an entirely different kind of kiss to the three we've had so far. This time it's soft and gentle and I drape my arms around his neck to hold him closer. He groans when I push myself against him.

Then I pull away. He looks disappointed. I wring my wrists.

"What's up? Did I do something?" he asks.

"No," I say, and then, "Well, kind of."

His face falls and he puts his hand over mine to stop me twisting my wrist. "What?"

"What you said earlier ... you said I'm actually cute," I say, blurting the words out because if I don't address the niggle at the back of my mind then it'll just plague me forever and I won't be able to get rid of it. "What did you mean? Because you sounded surprised and, I don't know, it seemed kind of weird. If you didn't think I was cute before, why ask me out?"