With Fin.
Just Fin.
“Why do you look so happy?”
I snapped my head his direction and mashed my lips together to hide my smile. He was staring at me with narrowed eyes again, as if studying the whole of me; not just my outward appearance, not even my mood, he was studyingallof me, every part, hidden and exposed.
His gaze was unnerving and the intelligence behind it was completely unexpected. Not that I wasn’t used to smart jocks, all three of my brothers were incredible athletes and super smart. Still, it was honestly unexpected from Fin.
“I just really love pizza,” I admitted when his gaze did not soften or lessen in intensity.
“But you’re so thin,” he observed and I hated that his words felt like an insult.
“Um, thanks?” I shook my head trying to play off the disappointment I felt, but he tilted his head as if I should explain my size to him. Did he interrogate all girls like this? It would explain why he didn’t have a girlfriend.
I didn’t even want to examine why I knew he didn’t have a girlfriend.
“I don’t get to eat it very often,” I explained. “It’s kind of a special treat for me.”
A light bulb must have gone off in his head because suddenly his expression turned smug and knowing. “Oh you’re one ofthosegirls.”
I popped up from my seat, arms crossed, ready for battle. “One of what girls?” I demanded.
“The kind that never eats, the kind that starves to stay skinny,” he deduced arrogantly.
“You are such a cocky bastard,” I grumbled, plopping back down in my seat. I was livid. Not that his argument was at all founded. I grew up fighting for my meals, learning how to beat all the boys to the dinner table and then fending them off while I assured my own sustenance. But still, just because a girl didn’t eat in front of guys didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her. She could be nervous. Or self-conscious. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility she might not be hungry. Gah, boys could be so thick-headed.
“Did you say bastard?” Fin asked on a smothered laugh.
“Shut it.” I turned back to the computer, pretending to do work although he hadn’t told me what to do next so I was pathetically at a standstill.
“Geez, Ellie, you’re so bossy,” he whined while walking across the living room to where I sat. “I had no idea, timid Ellie Harris could be so demanding.” He came to a stop, hovering over me. He was uncomfortably close and then he leaned down to rest his hands on the desk so that I had no choice but to smell him, to breathe in his yummy body wash, or deodorant or whatever it was that smelled so…. yummy.
When I didn’t respond to his jab, he leaned forward on his hands, bring his face even closer to mine. He inhaled deeply and my head whipped around, alarmed at the thought that he was….
“Did you just smell me?”
He gave me a sheepish grin and then took a lock of hair in my hand. “It’s not my fault you belong on a shampoo commercial.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah right.”
“What?” he demanded, rubbing the strands of hair back and forth between his forefinger and thumb as if mesmerized.
I glanced up at his perfect, shiny dark hair and rolled my eyes again.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to get an answer he went back to his original argument. “You have no problem eating in front of me?”
“Trust me, you will be lucky to get any pizza for yourself,” I admitted and then had to bat his hand away when he tugged on the lock of hair he was holding.
“So this is good metabolism?” his fingers left my hair to squeeze my measly bicep between them in a hard pinch. I swatted at him again, but he dodged my weak attempts at self-defense.
“Why are you so concerned with my diet?” I growled.
“You owe me a lot of money. I’m just protecting my interests,” he grinned down at me. And once again I was flooded by him, by every part of him. He was invading my space, attacking my senses and it was completely disorienting.
I let out a groan of irritation to which he chuckled at.
“You’re really not on some weird diet?” he pushed and this time the concern marking his tone pressed against my more sensitive feelings, demanding I open up to him.
