I nearly faint when he nuzzles my neck, inhaling slowly as he brushes a feather-soft kiss across my cheek and whispers against my ear, “Mmm, peaches. You look amazing.” Red’s pleasant expression slowly fades when he pulls me until I practically fall in his lap. I brace myself with one arm around his neck like it belongs there. “Relax. I got you.”
Dearly beloved… I’m in his lap. This routine isn’t entirely unchartered territory, but it’smore. It’s either a fake real or a real fake and—
I mean … I’m just … I…
I’m in so much trouble.
My eyes won’t focus.
Am I high?
“Best birthday ever.” His breath tickling my ear is definitely causing some level of inebriation. There’s no way she can hear him, so his words aren’t for her benefit.
He’s messing with me.
His soft, warm mouth and a bit of stubble touched myactual facethat time. Not the top of my head or licking my hand like a weirdo.
HE. KISSED. MY. FACE.
Somehow, the rules of engagement have changed. He’s playing dirty, and he knows it.
Help.
Grasping for some semblance of control, my incorrigible alter-ego tells me now would be a good time to run my fingers through his freshly cut hair.
This is war. No mercy.
“Hey, I’m Lucy.” I smile at my would-be nemesis and try to keep my voice from sounding affection-drunk as I slowly twirl his hair between my fingers. “Have you been here before?”
Am I talking really fast?
He just played hopscotch over every muddy line we ever had, and there will be payback. The worst part is how effortless this whole act is once I stop fighting it.
As far as Red’s concerned, I have no reason not to be friendly. There’s no competition, and if there were, it would appear I’ve already won.
His breaths stop then start again with a grunt and rough exhale. I try not to laugh when he leans into my hand. My nails comb down the back of his head, through the layers of still-longish hair, gripping with a slight tug at the base of his neck, when five distinct fingertips tighten on my thigh.
Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. When didthatget there?
I might know a thing or two about this guy. He’ll be functionally mute for a minute, but my revenge won’t come without a price—probably my sanity.
Oh, well. He started it.
I just hope I survive it.
He claims we don’t keep score, but if we did, this point goes to … dang it, I don’t know anymore. I barely remember my own name.
What are we doing?
“I’m Tabitha. I’m third-wheeling with my cousin and her boyfriend.” She seems to have adjusted her game plan from flirting to making friends as she points to a cute, nerdy-lookingcouple at a small table on the other side of the room. “I don’t know anyone else. I just transferred here.”
“Nice to meet you, Tabitha. Where are you from? You look too young to be a transfer.”
“I’m nineteen—a sophomore. I’m from Greensboro, but I transferred from Memphis. That place was disturbing.” She laughs.
I felt a little stabby at first, but she’s harmless.
Pretending to lay claim to Daniel shouldn’t come this easily. I practically peed on him like a dog marking my territory without thinking twice, and now he’s slumped against me with his chin on my shoulder. What do I tell the guys? “Sorry I broke your bass player.”
