I glance at Rafael as he shrugs off his jacket, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly. The mustard-yellow fitted T-shirt beneath clings to his frame, the bold, horizontal stripe and GOOD TIMES, BAD DECISIONS lettering stretching faintly over his chest as he moves. His eyes catch mine, and his lips curve into a small, knowing smile that sends a shiver racing down my spine. He glances around. “Ethan?”
“Out,” I reply, my voice a touch too breathy.
“Oh.” His gaze sharpens for a beat, the implication sparking there. “Too bad. I was hoping to play someGTA.”
Sure he was.
He steps closer, his movements deliberate. “When will he be back?”
“Midnight.”
He checks his phone, the glow illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He lets out a low whistle. “Plenty of time, then.”
My heart is pounding against my rib cage. The scent of his cologne fills my lungs, mingling with the faint tang of beer on his breath. My thoughts keep circling back to last week: his hands gripping my hips, the hard press of his body against mine.
His fingers brush over my forearm, light and teasing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His chest is almost against mine. “Should we read? Watch something?”
“No,” I say, making the corner of his mouth twitch.
He leans in, so close I can see the gold flecks in his gray eyes. “Then what should we do?”
Oh, I know what weshouldn’tdo. Weshouldn’tkiss. Weshouldn’tlet our hands wander. Weshouldn’tgive in to the electricity crackling between us. It’s a bad,badidea.
Apparently, I like bad ideas now.
“Each other?”
He laughs, the joyful noise quickly turning into a quiet smile. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry I hurt you. But if it’s all right with you, I’d really like a second chance.”
“Technically,thirdchance.”
“Third time’s a charm, right?”
I lean into him, lips hovering inches from his, his warm andheavy breath fanning over me. There are no more secrets now, no more reasons to hold back.
I think we’re about to kiss.
The noise of a key rattling in the door has us both turning to the right. I take a step back as Ethan comes in, one hand on the side of his face.
“Ethan?” I gasp.
An angry purple bruise is blossoming across his cheekbone, and blood trickles from a scratch on his cheek.
“Please,” he mumbles, swaying slightly on his feet. “Don’t make a big deal, okay?”
I grab his good arm to steady him, my mind reeling. “What the hell happened?”
Ethan’s one good eye darts nervously over my shoulder, landing on Rafael, who walks closer and puts a hand to the small of my back. “Get the first aid kit,” he says. “I’ve got him.”
I move, dazed. Someone hurt Ethan, and it isn’t the first time, but it’s the last, because I’m not settling for half answers tonight. I want the truth.
I walk into the bathroom, then rush back into the living room with the first aid kit. Rafael has helped my brother settle on the couch, and he’s dabbing his face with a washcloth. “How bad is it?” I ask as I drop onto the couch next to Ethan. “Should we go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine.”
“Nuh-uh.” I open the first aid kit and take out the disinfectant. “I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Rafael. The only thing you can tell me is the truth, and nothing else.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Ethan says. He winces when Rafael dabs his bottom lip. “Everything is fine.”
