“You’re fine.” He shook his head. “You’re a good person, and I didn’t want to like you, but I do.”
The man known as The Defender moved his thumb across my shoulder as he looked at me, that grouchy face turning open and sincere. I’d watched it too much to not notice the tiny differences in his features when his emotions changed. And I could tell that they had.
Then he reached toward the dresser and picked up a big orange bag from the top that I hadn’t noticed.
Cheetos. He was holding fucking Cheetos.
I looked at him, and the son of a bitch shook the bag a little as he held it out.
Dammit, I had to be logical.
“There’s another bag downstairs,” he said, watching me so, so carefully.
I could be practical.
“You said you promised your grandparents that you’d live a nice, long life.” He drew every word out. “Your best bet at that is sticking with me, and you know it.”
Suddenly, I felt in over my head.
My stomach twisted in that funny way right before something monumental happened.
Fuck.
It twisted again, reminding me that it was always right.
Those thick, dark eyebrows rose slowly, and the son of a bitch shook the bag of Cheetos at me some more. “What’s better than regular friends?” he asked. “You can be my best friend number 20. If you share the Cheetos with me, I’ll think about you being number 19.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Was I really going to change my mind? Had he won me over with an apology, an earnest face, a bag of chips, and by reminding me of what my grandparents had wished for? By calling me his best friend number 20?Really?
Did hehaveto be so logical? If he’d picked any number smaller, I would have thought he was full of shit. But twenty… twenty was believable.
Twenty was real.
Dammit.
He shook the bag a little more. “What do you say, Cookie?”
Fuck this motherfucker.
Fuckme.
Oh boy.
“Fine,” I snapped as a compromise, noticing that my stomach instantly went back to normal. I took the bag of chips from him.
Alex tipped his head to the side.
I pressed my lips together. “I want to tell you no. You were a real buttmunch.”
His eyebrows dropped flat, but I kept going.
“I’ll stay until we figure out a way that I can be okay by myself.”
His gaze stayed steady.
“But if you ever make me feel that way again, I’m out. And you can live with your guilt if the cartel gets me and feeds me to their pigs.”
