“I admitted to myself how much I wanted to.”
I don’t miss the way her throat bobs, and I know it must’ve taken a lot for her to admit that.
“Just all of sudden?” I challenge her, craving something tangible that’ll prove to me she’ll stay.
“No, I…I’ve been thinking about it. Since the game.” She pauses, shyness settling in her gaze. “You never texted me back.”
“Think you know why,” I tell her, watching her nod as her eyes fill with regret. “I thought you were in that tunnel for me,” I admit, my honesty tumbling out of me.
“You know I was,” she says, angling her face to better catch my gaze. “But I froze. I wasn’t thinking, I just saw you hit that guy and ran after you and I didn’t think about what would come next.”
I nod, raking my teeth over my lip as I let her excuse be enough for me.
“I think he knows,” she adds, the smallest sigh causing her shoulders to relax, and I know she means Will.
“And how does that make you feel?” I ask her, because as much as I can’t stand him, I know he’s important to her. Know that there are…feelings. Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said in the locker room, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to let him know that Iamthe threat he thinks I am.
“Worried,” she laughs, her breath shaky. “Things are already rocky for him and I don’t want to add to any of it. And then I’m annoyed that I care, because I feel really happy when I’m with you. Like, I can’t remember feeling this… okay,” she says, the words almost tumbling over each other, and I pull her closer, breathing what she's saying in. “Why’d you hit him, Grant?” she finally asks, pulling back slightly. “You could’ve been suspended.”
I barely remember what he said, but I remember not being able to stop myself. The moment that guy’s eyes even slid to her, an alarm switched in me. And then he said whatever he said, and I lost it.
I let my hand cradle the delicate cut of her jaw the wayI’ve imagined doing since the bonfire, trying to find a response that’s honest but doesn’t convey just how quickly my control is unraveling for her.
“He said something I didn’t like.”
“About?” she presses, and I huff a nervous laugh. And I don’t know why I feel like I’m standing on a ledge, but I do, my heart lodged high in my throat as I consider the speed at which my feelings for her are snowballing, definitely outpacing hers.
Someone brushes past us, makes extended contact with her side, but she never takes her eyes off me, just worries that bottom lip. The sight of it pulls the possessiveness I have for her out of me and I reaffirm the subtle grasp I have on her jaw, satisfied by the way she leans into it.
“You.”
A breath whooshes out of her, her chest deflating, before pulling one back in. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I’d do it again,” I don’t even hesitate to reply, because I would. There isn’t a scenario in which I would let someone disrespect her, whether she was there or not.
“Such a gentleman,” she whispers, her subtle grin easing my anxiety.
And then she pulls me down to her and the collision is electric. Our tongues seek each other with slow intensity, brushing against one another in question. It builds, the uncertainty falling away with every touch. She leans into me and I almost shudder from the way we fit together. One hand softly lands on my chest as she kisses me back, her tongue boldly gliding against mine. I angle her the way I want her and deepen the kiss, suddenly needing to feel more of her, the rush of endorphins flooding my system like nothing I’ve felt—intoxicating and made specifically to drive me crazy.
And it’s just this kiss, with her. It’s just the feel of her skin beneath my hand, just the feel of her lips against mine, just the sounds she makes. I feel her nip at my bottom lip, swirl her tongue around mine, and I meet her stroke for stroke, the room around us falling away. The press of her body against mine deepens the desire already mounting in me as I feel her arch against me, her hand skating down my neck and to my shoulder. I feel my way down the curve of her spine just as the song switches to an obnoxious EDM beat, Sloane’s voice coasting above it.
“Let’s do shots!”
She barrels between us, oblivious to what was just happening, grabbing Gen’s hand as she goes and dragging her toward the bar. Gen steals a glance back at me, a wide smile now blooming across her face and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. I trail them alongside Andy who seems just as amused by my sister’s antics.
“So I think Will is going to stop by,” Andy says as he pushes his hand through his hair. Gen is nursing a water and lightly leaning against my side, but as soon as she hears the mention of Will’s name she tenses.
“I should go. I have ballet in the morning and honestly it’s already pretty late...” she says, clearly wanting to avoid seeing Will. The fact that she’s still concerned with what he’ll feel if he sees us together pisses me off, especially off the heels of a kiss I’ll never be able to stop replaying. But then I remember just how petty Will Chapman gets when things don’t go his way. Even more than before do I want to keep the knowledge of his immature bet away from Gen, and a bar feels like the exact place Will would be uninhibited enough to tell her.
“We should probably head out too,” I tell Andy, shooting Sloane a look that screamsplease go with it. She’sbiting her lip in concentration as if trying to figure out the puzzle that is Genevieve Dupont. As if she can sense Gen’s desperation to escape, she grabs her hand.
“We can give you a ride home, right Grant?”
“I can just take an—” she starts, but I nod my head toward the exit, reaching my hand out to her.
“Come on, Dupont.” She stares at my hand for the slowest second of my life before taking it, but when she does it’s a gift I didn’t know I wanted. I know we’re not on campus, not around our usual group, but it’s the antidote I needed after her rejection.
We wave goodbye to Andy where he sits at the bar, waiting for Will, and I thank god that Gen didn’t stay with him. Wait for him, too.
