I want to. Fuck, I want to. But I’m not going to give her the satisfaction. So I don’t do or say a damn thing, and when Lil looks disappointed, I have to fight the urge to grin. Fucking hell.
“Fine. Let’s go then,” Ariana says.
“I can be the designated driver,” Lil wags her eyebrows at Ariana, who snorts.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“Then, at least let Luca drive home so you can have more than a beer or two.”
“What if Luca wants to let loose?” Ariana asks like it’s an actual possibility.
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. They’re your friends, have fun.” I met their group of friends throughout the week in the cafeteria. They seem alright.
Ariana purses her lips and picks at her nail polish. “We’ll see.”
Half an hour later, Lil’s knocking on Amanda’s front door.
“Woo hoo, you’re here!” Amanda shouts when she opens it and lets us in. “There’s beer. Jimmy’s fake ID is pretty decent, so he hit the store. Not as good as yours, though, Ariana.”
She shrugs. “Whose is?” She and Lil both grab a beer.
“Luca, are you playing games or just holding up walls tonight?” Lisa asks with a wide smile.
“Oh, he’s playing games. What are we starting with?” Lil glares at me, daring me to refuse. Again, I’m not giving in and letting her win, so I guess I’m participating in fucking game night.
And that’s how I end up sitting next to Ariana, spending two hours playing Cards Against Humanity and laughing more than I ever thought possible. Everything is inappropriate and ridiculous, and everyone picks cards just to make other people say shit like ‘finding your dad’s pocket pussy,’ and ‘pooping in front of your brand new boyfriend.’
Ariana and Lil prove to be a fantastic beer pong team, but April and her girlfriend beat us all. As Lil disappears outside with most of the group to share a joint, Ariana leans her hip against the kitchen island and pins me with a hard stare as she crosses her arms.
Why the fuck does that make my dick hard?
“I don’t let people drive my car, Luca.”
“I know.” I resist the urge to rearrange myself, hoping my jeans hide what this woman does to me.
“I don’t normally drink much outside the house unless someone I trust is driving us home, and I can pretty much count all those times on one hand.”
“You don’t like to count.”
She chuckles. “You’re right, I don’t.” She slides the heart-shaped locket along the chain around her wrist. “You know how to get back home, right?”
I swallow the lump that forms in my throat at the word. Atwhat it means to me now. Home. The DeVille house. It’s already more home than the one I grew up in ever was.
“Yeah, I know how to get home. And there’s this new thing, it’s called GPS. Really helpful if I get lost.” I’m rewarded with a bright smile, and fucking butterflies fill my stomach.
“You’re funny when you’re not being a grumbly asshole. Maps are one of the few things my brain likes. I can’t remember to do my laundry, but I can find a park I went to one time, like five years ago, without needing to look it up.”
“Not a bad skill to have,” I say.
“You say that because I’m not ordering you new socks after forgetting to wash all the dirty ones again.” She pulls her keychain out of her back pocket and places them in my hand, leaving rivers of pleasure as her fingertips slide across my palm slowly. Every time we touch, my body reacts. I swear my soul does, too.
She blinks up at me, and all I can think about is how she’s the perfect combination of tiny and thick. I wonder if she can hear my heart thumping in my chest. My fingers ache with the need to touch her. To dig into her flesh and pull her toward me. To curl around the back of her neck and kiss her.
Her lips part slightly, and the tip of her tongue darts out. My eyes are drawn to the split in her lip, not even a week old and still healing. Fuck. I can’t kiss her, not the way I would want to. And I shouldn’t kiss her, anyway.
As if she can read my thoughts, she drops her gaze to our hands and pulls hers away. Walking to the fridge, she pulls out a beer and a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I say when she holds the water out to me. Wanting to lessen the tension between us, I nod toward the back door. “Not a fan?”
