the number twenty-one on my back.

I may have told Elijah I wouldn't think about him when I fell asleep, but I lied. He was the only person on my mind last night. The moment I took his sweatshirt off this morning, I told myself to rid the thoughts.

"My head," Reva groaned and Penelope made a sound, both of them spooning on the couch, the living room curtains pulled tautly.

"Do you want me to grab breakfast?"

"If I eat, I'll throw up. How are you not hungover, Sade?"

I chuckled. "I didn't mix dark and light liquor, and I'm surprised you did."

"That was my fault," Penelope mumbled into Reva's hair.

"Well, text me if you need anything. I'm going to paint," I said, and left the apartment.

It was already noon, and a beautiful day for once. The sun poured through my windshield, heating my chest just like Elijah had last night. My fingers tentatively grazed my elbow, where a budding brush burn formed from being pressed against the brick wall. I gripped the steering wheel harder. No one had touched me with that much need.

It was going to take a lot of willpower today to stay focused.

How would it feel to be touched again? I conjured all the images I could and soon enough, my car jerked to a halt in the art studio lot and I hiked my bag over my shoulder and walked to the building.

I had been slacking on starting my final project and emailed my professor to ask for extra studio time. She let me back into the art building—probably in obligation—because she felt bad about the department revoking the internship, which I was still annoyed over.

Though, the thoughts slipped away when I stepped into the studio. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until I tied my apron around my waist and sat on my stool.

Our final project was conceptual and meant to encompass all the units we studied this semester. I wrote ideas, sketched, and picked my color palette, completely engrossed in the process until...

"Come on! Move faster!" a male voice bellowed, followed by a mixture of muffled shouts and grunts. My concentration broke, my attention directed at the window as I watched the baseball team field balls as their coach clapped.

I hurried closer to the window, scanning the field for Elijah. I spotted him by third base and pulled out my phone and texted that I could see him, even though I knew he wouldn't have his phone on him.

Grinning, I continued sketching.

Hours later, when the sun illuminated the opposite side of the room, the door creaked open and Elijah leaned against the door frame. My heart lurched and my brushstrokes came to a stop. Pulling out my headphones, I smiled coyly at him.

"Were you watching me out of the window, Van Gogh?"

"I looked out once or twice," I said, resuming painting.

"See anything you like?" he teased.

"A lot of balls."

His deep belly laugh filled the room and my cheeks burned red. I couldn't hold in my laughter. "Well, you didn't like balls the first day we met. And speaking of, I haven't seen you here in a while."

"I wasn't working on any projects. Now I am."

He strode up behind me—like he always did when he observed my art—and stood so close; I felt his shirt grazing my back. I tried not to wriggle as he asked, "What is this going to be?"

"I'm going to paint an autumn landscape, with dying trees. There will be a cloud floating in the branches with a falling angel coming out and reaching for a starving human on the ground. Kind of loosely inspired by the Sistine Chapel ceiling." I pointed to the sketches as I spoke, so he understood the idea.

When I turned around, he was staring, a look I couldn't quite discern gleaming in his eyes. "You're incredible."

I looked at the brush in my hand and smiled, unable to conjure something to say. He leaned against the table behind him, legs crossed, his hands supporting his body weight on either side. "Come get food with me."

"Are you asking me out on a date, Eli?"

The corner of his mouth twisted into a sly grin. He regards me incredulously before pushing off the table and approaching me.

I looked at him through hooded lashes, his body towering over mine. He stood between my legs while I sat,ucking my hair behind my ear, and huskily murmured, "Say that again."

My entire body went rigid. "What? Eli?"

He dipped his head down, his breath hot over my lips as he hesitated to close the space between us. My eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the impact, and I fidgeted to set aside my paintbrush on the stool to my left.

"Did you think of me last night?"

My eyes opened. "No."

He tilted his head, an eyebrow lifted in doubt. "No? You didn't think about me kissing you?"

I shook my head, clearly lying, but I wanted to see what he'd say.

"I thought about you," he leaned closer, his mouth brushing against mine, but still not kissing me. I can both hear and feel him speak."Wanna know what I thought about?"

"Mhm." I nodded, snaking my hand around the back of his knee to pull him closer.

"I thought about you in your outfit, and that little noise you made when I kissed you."

Heat blossomed in my navel, which felt more like lava melting throughout my body. Oh, God. He thought about me, and not in the way someone appears in your mind before you drift off to sleep. He thought about me.

"What about it?" I whispered.

"I want to hear it again."

Needing him to endure how I felt last night, I stood—barely reaching his height—and picked up my brushes. Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I walked away from him and washed my brushes, my back toward him.

His footsteps thumped over the sound of running water and my body stiffened, exhilaration singing in my veins. His hands gripped my hips, and I almost dropped the brushes in the sink. That little shit. He knew I was trying to tease him, and now he was doing it back.

I pretended like he wasn't there, though the moment I felt his lips kiss the nape of my neck, an involuntary gasp slipped from my lips. Jesus, Sadie.

His body shook as he chuckled against me and I turned to a scowl.

"C'mon. Turn around for me so I can make you make that sound again," he teased.

I was pinned against the sink. My only escape route was to my right. "You're an ass," I harrumphed, slipping from his hold. I wanted to kiss him, too, my body yearning for his touch, but the stubborn part of me wanted to see how crazy I could drive him.

"Where are we going to eat?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Wherever you want. I'll pay."

"You don't have to do that," I said. "Let's go to the restaurant on Main Street."

and regrouped in a booth facing the ocean.

"So, how was practice?" I asked.

"It was good. We have a big home game on Saturday, so our coach has been going hard on us."

"Speaking of your coach, did he ever find out about the cops coming to your house?"

He shook his head, sipping his water. "No, thank God. If that party had been any bigger, he may have."

"What would he have done?"

He snorted. "Probably give us a lecture about making good choices, then make us run laps."

"That's dramatic." I rolled my eyes.

"He doesn't have any kids of his own, so I think he likes to parent us."

I nodded. The waiter took our order, and then we were left alone again.

Elijah's foot rhythmically stroked my leg under the table, but he didn't acknowledge it on his face. It felt as though we had done these hundreds of times like it was routine to go out and eat together.

"So, have your friends suspected anything about us, yet?"

I shrug. "I think they have a feeling, but I haven't confirmed it. What about your friends?"

"Same." A moment passed. "Is there a reason you don't want to tell anyone?"

I pushed my straw around in my cup, unwanted feelings and insecurities suddenly swarming through my body. How do I tell him how I feel without explaining Ben?

"It's not because of you or anything, I just—" I wanted to be truthful without oversharing, so after a moment to collect my thoughts, I said, "I had a negative experience with a past relationship, so it's hard for me to open up sometimes."

"That's okay." He reached across the table and took my hand in his, brushing his thumb over my knuckles in reassuring swipes. "I just want to spend time with you. We don't have to label anything."

My smile didn't meet my eyes because of how embarrassed I felt. All the guys I had been with never questioned my emotions when we were together, but Elijah questioning mine was foreign.

"If you ever want to talk about it, I won't feel uncomfortable listening."

Now my smile was genuine. "Thank you."

The waiter dropped off our food not too long after we placed our order, and since I was starving, I ate enough of my chicken salad.

When we finished, we sat there talking until late afternoon. The waiter seemed mad that we lingered at the table, so Elijah ordered dessert to go—even though I had no interest in lava cake—and we laughed hysterically on our way out of the restaurant.

Elijah walked me to my car. "Do you want to come over?"

"Going home together on the first date now, are we?" I teased.

"Sadie Garner?" A voice called from the other side of the parking lot. Elijah and I whipped our heads to follow the voice, only to see Dustin walking toward us. Elijah stepped closer to me and leaned against the car.

"You didn't come to the annex yesterday," Dustin said, beaming brightly.

"Yeah, I was busy."

Dustin hadn't acknowledged Elijah's presence since he walked over. Still knowing they had met many times and, frankly, did not like each other, I asked, "Dustin, you know Elijah, right?"

He stared at me for a beat, then looked at Elijah. "We've met, yeah."

And he was mad because I told him at the Date party I wasn't dating Elijah.

"Anyway, the Frat is having a beach party next Friday."

"I have plans, but thanks for the invite." I faked a smile and glanced at Elijah to gauge his reaction. His eyes were cemented to Dustin, a cool expression fixed on his face even though his eyes told a different story.

"Yeah, well, if your plans get canceled, I'm always here." He finally met Elijah's intense stare with his own, then said, "Bye, Sadie."

When Dustin was gone, I turned toward Elijah. "I'm sorry about him."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault he's an asshole."

I considered my words. "He seems to like me." I wanted to tell Elijah that Dustin had been quite persistent with me, but decided against it since I don't want them having a pissing contest over me.

"That makes two of us." Elijah grinned and opened my car door. "See you back at my place?"

Blushing, I told him yes and followed him to his house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

One of his roommates' cars was parked in the driveway when we pulled in. I'd talked myself up during the car ride. I knew I would have to get over my worrying about someone finding out Elijah and I spent alone time together.

Alone time. The thought made my body warm.

He guided us to his room, luckily we had seen no one on the way—and he locked the door behind him once we were safely inside. "I have to do that or they will burst in unannounced."

I looked around as if I hadn't been here before while Elijah opened his window, fresh air spilling into the space.

"Are these your drawing pencils?" I asked, touching the holder on his desk.

He sat on his bed. "I sketch with them sometimes, yeah."

"I still haven't forgotten about those architectural drawings from the studio. You are fantastic."

"It's nothing serious."

I rested against his desk, using the surface to half-sit. "Do you want it to be something serious?"

He stared at me for a moment and I saw the wheels turning in his head as I backed him into a corner. He flung himself onto his back with a groan. "Yeah, I like architecture," he said as if he were embarrassed.

"I think it's cool." I hid my smile. "I love how artistic architects are."

Between the conversations we had about the MLB on the roof to his future, I could tell his heart didn't fully lie with baseball, especially his sports management major. I hadn't realized how much it truly affected him until recently.

Wanting to take his mind off anything serious, I sat in the desk chair and asked, "Would you show me how to sketch something?"

The bed creaked as he stood. "An art major asking a baseball player how to draw? That's ironic."

I laughed. "I prefer using paint as my medium and buildings aren't usually my choice of subject. So yes, Mr. Architect, show me how you draw."

Smiling, he materialized a spiral-bound sketchbook from his shelf and placed it on the desk. Nerves simmered under my skin as I realized he trusted me enough to show me something very personal.

He flipped to his most recent work, and I glimpsed at the other pages which could've been hanging inside of a picture frame in someone's house. "I usually find what style I want to do first, make a rough sketch down in the corner, and then I use my ruler and measure the full piece."

I listened intently as he explained his artistic process. My heart swelled—almost bursting from my chest—because I could tell how passionate he felt about his hobby. There was more excitement behind his words now than there ever was with baseball.

"Here, try this." He guided the pencil in my hand.

I watched him instead of the paper.

"Don't look at me like that."

I chuckled. "Like what?"

"Like you want to be kissed." His hand froze, still holding mine.

"What if I do?"

He spun me around in his chair, scanning my face before he kissed me. He kissed me harder than I was expecting. The arms of the chair prevented him from getting any closer, so I moved to the edge of the seat, only to feel his hands slip under my thighs and hoist me up.

A squeal slipped from me and I felt him smile against my lips.

My back hit his mattress, yet our mouths hadn't budged. He held me tight while threading his fingers through my hair. He parted my lips to make space for his tongue, which he seemed to know how to use.

Fuck. My hips bucked upward in response, and he ground against me.

I'd thought about making out with Elijah like this, in bed. Though my brain never could have replicated the fiery feeling as he kissed my jaw, down my neck. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back, wanting to touch every inch of him.

"Touch me," I breathed, moving his hand from my hair to my breast.

He stared, his chest rising and falling, and then continued kissing every inch of my neck. His hand-kneaded, giving both of my breasts enough attention before dragging his hand down my torso to the edge of my shirt.

My body went rigid because I wasn't ready for him to see me naked, but I didn't want to stop.

He pulled us upright onto our knees and began pulling my shirt off, my arms crossed around my torso, covering me. This was actually happening, and seeing him out of breathing before me made it even harder to resist.

The doorknob jiggled, followed by pounding. "Ay Preston! You in there?"

I placed my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm busy!"

Brant paused. "Who's car is in the driveway? Is there a girl in there?"

I brought my lips to Elijah's neck and kissed right underneath his ear to distract him. "Uh," he mumbled, trying to push me away. "Nope, I don't know who's that is."

"Bull-fucking-shit!" He pounded twice. "Have fun in there. We're going out. Anyway, Sadie is gonna beat the shit out of whoever legs you are in between right now! Give that poor girl a warning!"

My skin prickled when he said my name, and I fell back against the bed. So much for the guys not knowing Elijah and I weren't a thing. They had an inkling something was going on between us. Then again, my car was parked in their driveway.

"Sadie is going to be mad at you," I laughed.

"Is she now?"

"Yeah, you're between some random girl's legs."

"A hot girl." He tossed my shirt behind my head.

My arms were still secured around my belly while he ran his finger over my skin. Then he laid beside me, propping his head on his elbow, and we shared a moment of silence before my phone vibrated with a text.

"Reva is staying with Penelope tonight."

He grinned. "So she won't notice if you don't go back to your apartment?"

I raised a brow. "What?"

"Stay tonight," he said, nudging me. "You can have my bed and I'll take the floor. You can shower and I'll give you a tee-shirt."

Stay the night? I was already semi-naked in his bed. I could not imagine what staying the night would bring, but my body seemed to say yes before my brain had the chance to decide.

"Don't you have anything better to do tonight? What about your friends?" I asked.

"What about them? You are here."

Just stay with him. When will you get this perfect opportunity again? I scanned his face, looking for any sense of regret, but only saw a plea. Screw it, I thought and rolled off of the bed. "In that case... I'll take your shower offer."

It took a beat for him to realize that was my way of agreeing to his sleepover. Beaming, he jumped out of bed and guided me into his bathroom and showed me where the soap and towels were, and then turned on the water.

"I'll grab you a shirt."

I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the warm water, hoping Elijah would catch the slightest glimpse of my body when he set the tee-shirt on the sink.

He cleared his throat, and I peaked beyond the shower curtain.

"It's on the sink." He pointed. "I'll be out here."

The moment the door shut, my body sank against the cool tiles in relief. I had not expected my Saturday to end this way or ever be in Elijah Preston's shower. I needed a moment alone to collect my thoughts.

I picked up his body wash and inhaled deeply. The mahogany and vanilla scent filled my nose and tickled a part of my brain. It was his scent. I squeezed it in my hands and began scrubbing.

After my shower, I dried off and turned to the side in the mirror, thinking, this is what Elijah would see if he was staring at my naked body. He would see the way my back skin folded with my arms at my sides, the way my breasts didn't sit perkily on my chest, the stretch marks running down my thighs, and how my stomach protruded despite sucking in.

"You are beautiful," I whispered. "And you are the only one who thinks this way about your body."

Chewing on my lip, I pulled his tee-shirt over my head and snorted at his name spread across my back, yet again.