I hear Casey argue, but their voices continue to get farther away. I’m not even sure if they’re walking away, or if I’m solost in this kiss, I’ve floated away.
I moan softly as his hand slides up my back to grip my skull, somehow bringing us even closer.
It feels like I’m on a merry-go-round, spinning until the dizziness takes over, and the world around me seems to evaporate. My toes curl in my sneakers. Electricity tickles my spine.
My stomach shifts, twists, and knots as butterflies take flight. The rapid beat of my heart thrums against my chest. Warning bells ring in the distant reaches of my mind, telling me to pull back. But I can’t find it in me to listen or care.
I’m swept away by him. The way his lips burn mine. How he holds me as if he’s trying to make us one. The generous, caring heart he hides, the toxic possessiveness he displays, the obsessive streak he doesn’t try to hide, and the deeply protective instincts he has. Even his demons and ghosts…Suddenly, I don’t want to know his secrets and pain; I want to carry them—own them.
Oxygen burns my lungs when he releases me. I didn’t notice I’d stopped breathing, and I didn’t care. His translucent gaze holds me, devours me. “So, want to tell me who this boyfriend is that I’m fighting for you?”
Embarrassment rips from my lips as my head drops against his chest. “There’s not one. She insisted on giving me a ride the night of my audition. It just slipped out. And kind of grew.”
“Casey seemed positive there was one. Am I missing something, Halfpint? She wouldn’t make something like that up.”
Panic yanks my head away from his chest. My stupid heart thrums in my chest, squeezing until it hurts.
Then I see it. Mischief dancing in his eyes. Amusement twitching his lips.
My palm lands on his chest. “You know I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That’s not what you said earlier.”
“I never called you my boyfriend.” Pain shoots through my head with how hard I roll my eyes.
“Mhmm.” His mouth curls, and so do my toes at the strange look in his eyes.
“And you don’t do girlfriends?” I don’t mean for it to sound like a question or to sound like a broken door squeaking on its hinges. “A…uh…Guys who haven’t had a girlfriend since they were fifteen, like you said, don’t do commitment or labels?”
I should come with an off switch. It’s the only thing that will stop the bullshit coming from my mouth. Of course, he has no idea I know why he hasn’t had a girlfriend. But I shouldn’t say things like that when I’ve admitted I haven’t had a boyfriend in years either.
Dating is hard under the best conditions. In our positions…impossible. Actual relationships? Those make the impossible seem probable.
This, what’s between us, growing like a parasitic vine, is too, right?
“Or maybe it’s I've never found a reason to commit. Perhaps I’ve reconsidered my stance because I’ve found an exception to that rule.” He brushes his fingers over my cheeks, and I swallow hard.
It’s getting harder and harder to remember why I can’t have him. Especially when he made perfectly valid points last night.
“Oh?” I sound like a dog toy saying that, as if he hasn’t already told me in every way and shown me all day long.
He leans down, his warm breath caressing my face as intimately as a kiss. “Admit it.” His lips brush below my ear. My body trembles, and he tucks me back against him as if I’m cold. Though I have a feeling he knows exactly why my body is shaking like leaves in the wind, and the cold isn’t it. “You like me. I think youlikelike me.”
“What are we? Seven?” I scoff, hiding my smile in his chest.
“Come on.” He wraps his heavy arm around my shoulders, keeping me close. “We’re supposed to celebrate, remember?”
“Hmm. Speaking of that…how much of my money mysteriously reappearing and the bank miraculously giving me an extension was you?”
“What makes you think it was me?”
“Because those kinds of miracles don’t happen to me. Especially not two in a day. Also, why would it take them over a week to realize it was a system glitch?”
“It happens.”
We reach his car, and he opens my door, gesturing me in. I don’t budge, instead choosing to fold my arms over my chest and lift a skeptical brow. I know it’s bullshit.
He rips the beanie off his head, then threads his fingers through his messy locks. A bit of guilt spills past his lips, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Fuck, that’s twice now,” he mutters, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Okay. So I did some digging, figured out where your money went, and…I fixed it. I knew you needed that money.”
