Page 54 of Blood Queen
A shiver runs through me, part anticipation, part something heavier.
“Truman—”
He steps closer, backing me up against a tree. “You wanna know what’s weird, Kid?”
I swallow hard. “What?”
His fingers trace up my arm, slow, teasing. “That I haven’t kissed you in hours.”
The breath rushes out of me. “Thatisweird.”
His lips twitch, then he’s kissing me—deep and slow, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. I grip his shirt, pulling him closer, letting him press me into the rough bark of a tree.
It’s dizzying. It’s reckless.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathless.
Truman’s dorm is still a mess. Clothes spilling out of his duffel, a stack of books teetering on the desk, and an unopened box shoved against the wall.
I sit cross-legged on his bed, holding up a t-shirt. “You gonna fold these or just let them become one big wrinkle?”
He glances up from unpacking a box, smirking. “Wrinkles build character.”
I snort. “No, they make you look like you slept outdoors.”
His brow lifts, all challenge. “That right?”
Before I can react, he’s grabbing me, pulling me down onto the bed with a low grunt. His weight pins me for half a second before he shifts, bracing himself on his elbows so he doesn’t crush me.
I try to act unaffected.Try.
“Truman,” I mutter.
His smirk deepens. “Kid…”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse is erratic, and heknowsit.
Before he can do more, a knock sounds at the door.
Truman sighs, reluctantly peeling himself off me before yanking the door open.
A guy leans against the frame, grinning like he’s already decided we’re all gonna be best friends. He’s tall, lean, with shaggy brown hair and a backward baseball cap.
“Yo. Saw you moving in—figured I’d introduce myself.” He holds out a hand. “Eli. I live across the hall. I’m a sophomore.”
Truman shakes it. “Truman.”
Eli nods, glancing past him. His gaze lands on me still sprawled on the bed, and his grin widens. “And you are…?”
Truman shifts, blocking part of his view like it’s instinct. “My girlfriend.”
The words hit me like a live wire. Am I? Is that how it happens? I assumed that there would be an asking, a conversation. But all I have to go off of is books I’ve read. The corners of my mouth tip up into a grin.
Eli lets out a low whistle. “Damn, freshman year and you’re already off the market? Rough, man.”
Truman smirks. “Tragic, I know.”
I sit up, feeling awkward and out of place. “I don’t go here.”
