CHAPTER SIX

THEO

"Grab that end," Douglas said, pointing at the dresser.

I grabbed it while Elijah grabbed the other end. We lifted together and I immediately regretted every decision that had led to this moment. The dresser was heavy, shaped awkwardly and Elijah was right there across from me, meeting my eyes over the top of it like this was some kind of game.

"Watch the corner," Douglas called from behind us. "Don't scratch the wall."

We'd been at this for an hour already. Moving boxes, rearranging furniture, clearing space for whatever wedding supplies my mother and Douglas had decided they needed. The garage was hot, cramped and I was sweating through my shirt. Elijah looked completely fine, barely even breathing hard.

"Pivot left," he said.

I pivoted left. We maneuvered the dresser through the garage door and into the house. Douglas was already ahead of us, clearing a path.

"The stairs are narrow," Douglas warned. "So take it slow."

Great. Narrow stairs meant closer space. I was already too close to Elijah as it was. I could smell his deodorant every time I moved.

We started up the stairs. I went backward, taking the weight from below. Elijah climbed forward, guiding from above. Halfway up, the dresser shifted and I had to adjust my grip.

"Wait," Elijah said, and suddenly his hand was on my lower back, steadying me. "You good?"

"I'm fine," I said through my teeth. "Move your hand."

He didn't move it. Just kept it there, warm and firm against my spine, while we adjusted the dresser. I could feel each of his fingers through my shirt like a hot branding iron burning into me.

"Elijah—"

"Got it," he said, but his hand stayed another three seconds before he finally pulled it away and when he did, he trailed his fingers across my spine teasingly.

Heat shot up my back and a shiver followed right after, spreading from my neck to my tailbone. It shocked me so much I nearly dropped the dresser on my toe.

"Careful," Douglas said from somewhere above us.

I gritted my teeth and kept climbing. Elijah's hand was gone but I could still feel where it had been, like he'd left a brand on my skin. My shirt was damp with sweat and I couldn't tell if it was from the work or from him touching me.

We made it to the top of the stairs and set the dresser down where Douglas wanted it. I stepped back immediately, putting distance between us.

"Good work, boys," Douglas said. "That was the worst of it. Just a few more boxes and we're done."

Just a few more boxes. I could survive a few more boxes.

Except Elijah kept positioning himself in my way. Every time I reached for something, he was there. Every time I turned around, I had to duck under his arm or brush past him. At one point he handed me a box and our fingers touched and he didn't let go right away, just held on for a beat too long while looking at me with those dark eyes.

"Thanks," I said flatly.

"Anytime," he said with a fucking smirk.

By the time we finished, I was ready to shower for an hour to get rid of every feeling of his hand on me and avoid Elijah for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the month. Douglas clapped us both on the shoulders and went inside to find my mother. I walked out to the driveway, needing air and space.

But of course, Elijah followed.

"That wasn't so bad," he said.

I didn't answer. Just stood there looking at the street, at the houses, at anything that wasn't him.

"Theodore."

"What?" I spat.

He moved closer but didn't touch me as his voice dropped. "Tonight. After everyone's asleep, come to my room."

My stomach dropped. "No."

"That wasn't a request."

"I'm not doing this," I said.

"The bet—"

"I don't care about the bet."

Elijah tilted his head slightly. "That's breaking the bet. Do you want me to explain to our parents why you're refusing to help me with..." He paused. "Let's call it wedding planning."

I stared at him. He wasn't serious. There's absolutely no way he could be serious.

His expression didn't change. Fucking hell! He was insane.

"You wouldn't," disbelief filled my tone.

"Try me."

I felt the trap close around me like a fist. He had me and he knew it. I could refuse and he'd make it weird with our parents. Or I could go to his room tonight and deal with whatever he had planned. Both options were terrible. One was worse.

"Fine," I said. "But if you try anything—"

"I won't try anything you don't want me to try." He smiled slightly. "See you tonight, Theodore."

He walked back inside, leaving me standing in the driveway feeling like I'd just agreed to something I couldn't take back.

***

At 11:47 PM, I knocked on Elijah's door.

I'd spent the last three hours trying to talk myself out of this by convincing myself that he was bluffing, that I could just not show up and deal with the consequences. But every time I thought about him telling my mother and Douglas something that would make them ask questions, my stomach twisted.

So here I was. Outside his door at almost midnight like an idiot.

The door opened. Elijah stood there in a t-shirt and sleep pants, looking completely unsurprised to see me. He stepped aside without a word. I walked in and heard the lock click behind me.

His room was almost identical to mine. Same layout, same furniture, same window overlooking the backyard. But it smelled like him and that made my chest tight.

I stood in the center of the room, keeping my distance. Elijah moved around me slowly, like he was examining something. I tracked him with my eyes but didn't turn. He circled once, then stopped in front of me.

"Take off your shirt," he said.

The hell?

My jaw clenched. "No."

He tilted his head slightly, studying my face. "Then I'll do it."

He reached for the hem of my shirt. I grabbed his wrist before his fingers could touch the fabric and held it there between us. His pulse was steady under my fingers. Mine was racing.

We stared at each other. His wrist was warm in my hand but I wasn't pushing him away nor was I pulling him closer. Just holding him there in some kind of stalemate that neither of us knew how to break.

"You're allowed to want this, you know," Elijah said quietly.

Fuck this.

I dropped his wrist and walked out without another word.

Behind me, I heard him say, "Sweet dreams, Captain."