When I look up, I see James staring at me and I frown wondering what he’s looking at. “What?”

He shakes his head, but just before that I see a look I don’t recognize then it’s gone before I can pinpoint if I’ve seen it on anyone else before. “Make yourself at home, why don’t ya.” He laughs and I nod.

“I shall.” I pull my sweatshirt up off over my head leaving me in a tiny t-shirt because James likes to leave the thermostat a few degrees above Hell at all times.

The t-shirt is tight, showing off the curves of my C cup breasts and my leggings hug the curve of my ass and my thick thighs. Thighs I used to hate and wish were smaller until I got to college and realized that not everyone is a size zero. I learned to embrace them. And the male attention I got didn’t suck either.

James chuckles as he makes his way into the kitchen and I trail behind him. “What’s so funny?” I ask as I hop on his counter and hold my hand out, waiting for him to hand me a drink. Preferably a glass of wine.

“Nothing,” he says before handing me a glass of water. I look down at the non-alcoholic beverage and then up at him and give him a look he must read because he chuckles.

“What?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me and those full lips I’ve fantasized about sliding my tongue between curl into a smirk. “You’re here to study, not party.”

I snap out of it, knowing James will pick up if I’m feeling off, so I turn on my usual sarcasm. “One glass of wine is a party? Remind me to never ask you to plan one for me.”

“I planned your eighteenth and your graduation party so you can fuck off.” He points at me as he pulls the Chinese food out of the refrigerator and some plates from his cabinet.

“Mom planned both,” I correct him.

“Mom had afternoon tea and a day at the spa planned for you and your friends before I intervened.”

“I like tea!” I counter because I do actually like having tea with my mother and her friends. Monica was never into it but I felt so classy, like I was on that Netflix show Bridgerton.