Igiggled. “Are those theonlyoptions?”
“Well,”he stepped forward, polluting the limited space between us with the scent ofspice and manly musk, “wecouldhug, which I would appreciate. However,if I were to hug you, I might also feel compelled to kiss you, and that, Iwould appreciate so much more.”
Myheart skipped along in my chest, standing there with him so close. I wassuddenly fourteen, on my parents’ front stoop with my first crush, and lookingtoward my living room window, I could almost see the apparition of my mother’seyes, spying on me and the cute boy from school. I found I wanted Roman to kissme. I wanted to know if he kissed the way I thought he would, with power andcontrol and the slightest touch of sensitivity, and I wanted to do it withoutguilt.
Ihoped I could.
Inodded. “Okay.”
“Isthat an okay for a hug, or a kiss?”
Witha nervous smile, I whispered, “Both.”
29
sebastian
Me: I am not meant for this type of shit.
Devin: Elaborate?
Me:Tabby went on a date with some fucking suit from the city.
Ty:Shit, dude. Fucker’s moving in on your territory. Gotta mark her, man.
Me: Areyou saying I should piss on her? Because I’m not sure she’s into that, but I’mdown.
Devin: You’re so fucked up, lol.
Chad:Why haven’t you put a ring on that yet?
Me: Shutthe hell up, Chaddington Bear. You can’t say shit to me until you’re engagedAND married.
Chad:How do you know I’m not married already?
Ty:You would’ve invited us to the wedding, dick.
Chad:Well, maybe we eloped!
Me:Did you?
Chad:No …
Me:Okay. So, like I said, Chaddington—shut the hell up.
Toput it lightly, I was irritable. It had been five days since I’d seen Tabby andfour since I had spoken to her. She wasn’t answering my messages or calls, butI knew she was at the very least alive, because Greyson seemed to be on thephone with her regularly. So, there was some solace in that, but not enough to puta smile on my face at the idea of being ignored.
Greysonwalked into the kitchen with his thumbs tapping away at the screen of his phoneand I glanced over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes petulantly, backing awayfrom my line of sight.
“How’syour aunt?” I asked casually.
“That’sthe second time you’ve asked today,” he pointed out, not bothering to look upat me as he continued to type.
“Well,I was hoping I’d get an answer this time,” I shot back, opening the fridge andgrabbing a beer.
“Texther yourself.”
LikeI haven’t already tried that. Rolling my eyes behind hisback, I popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig before asking him, “Whatdo you wanna do today?”
