“I see,” I said slowly. “Maybe I’ll try it out whenever you do.”
She looked at me sideways, staring up through those dark lashes of hers. When she looked at me like that, it felt like I was carrying her whole world on my shoulders. She looked at me like she was hopeful—of what, I wasn’t sure.
“You should have something better to do on a Friday night than keeping me out of trouble.”
“You should have something better to do than getting into it.”
“Why? Seems to bring you out of your shell.”
“You bring out a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
I didn’t know how to even begin answering that. She didn’t give me room to think things through like I normally would. I wasn’t sure I could even think at all when she shifted closer to me—close enough that I could smell that damn perfume of hers.
It pissed me off that I noticed.
She lowered her voice. “Like anger?”
No. Anger was too easy. What she pulled from me was complicated—something I didn’t even want to put a name to. Frustration, maybe. The kind that lingered in the back of my mind, turning into fantasies I had no business entertaining. Like how her lips would feel parted under mine.
She thought she had me figured out. Probably assumed she pissed me off and that was it. But my problem wasn’t anger—it was wanting something I shouldn’t want. Wanting someone who would inevitably drag chaos back into my life.
I glanced at her, noticing how her dress had slid up her thigh even further. “Like irritation.”
She let out a soft hum, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at me. “I think you like being irritated by me.”
“I think you talk too much.”
Her smirk widened. “You’re looking at my dress a lot for someone who supposedly doesn’t like me.”
“And you’re wearing it a certain way for someone who supposedly doesn’t care what I think.”
She grinned. “I always care what men think. That’s why I get what I want.”
“And what is it you think you want from me?”
She shrugged, tilting her head. “Haven’t decided yet.”
Haven’t decided yet. Of course she hadn’t.
“You could always give me a suggestion or two,” she added.
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of your own.”
I pulled up to her building and left the engine running. Normally, I’d be halfway down the block by now, but something held me there—some hesitation I couldn’t shake off.
“You sure you don’t want to come inside?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “I promise I don’t bite.”
Heat crawled up my neck, and I swallowed hard.
“Relax.I’m just kidding.”
Before I could even process that, she leaned in, brushing her lips against my cheek. Soft, quick, but the kiss burned through me like a shot of something I hadn’t felt in years.
“Try not to look so tortured next time,” she whispered before stepping out of the car without another word, not bothering with a “thank you” or a “good night.” She never did.
I waited until she’d disappeared inside before finally breathing out, sinking back against the seat.And then I did something I never did. Something I spent every waking moment consciously avoiding. I reached up and flipped down the mirror.
