A grin curves her pretty pink lips. “Here’s what I do. When my brain is going all fuzzy because you look exceptionally bitable or your mind-melting dimples show up, I try to remind myself of all the annoying things you’ve done.”
A small laugh bursts out of me. “Bitable?”
She smacks my chest lightly. “Do not laugh at me.”
“Sorry, yes, this is very serious.” I school my features. Let my thumb trail over her side. “What exactly are you trying to bite?”
“Nothing.” But her eyes betray her by dipping to my forearm.
I’m having trouble not grinning like a fool. “A love bite or a draw-blood bite?”
“Enough to leave a mark, I guess.”
Heat pools in my stomach at that thought. Iwant that. Very much yes. She can mark me up any way she pleases. A low, deep groan pulls from the back of my throat.
She shivers. “See, you can’t do that either. Add that to the list of things that make it hard to function.”
I almost do it again, just to see what happens. “Ah. What annoying thing are you thinking of to cancel it out?”
She swallows. Thinks. Sighs. “It’s hard to find one right this second.”
“On account of the dimples?” I ask, smiling so I know they’re showing.
“And your smell and the irritatingly firm muscles.” Her nails dip into the hair behind my ear. “And this. How does it always look adorably unkempt?” My eyes fall shut under her touch, but then it’s gone, her hand back to my chest. “Mostly, though, it’s you in general. How you always see me and seem to know whatI need. How you take care of me in little ways, even though you don’t have to.”
Warmth infuses my muscles. Idon’t know how much of this conversation she’ll remember tomorrow, but I’ll never forget it. She seesme, even if she’s cranky and glowering, she knows my intentions, and that soothes something inside me.
As the song fades away, Ethan’s voice flickers over the speaker to announce that someone ordered soft pretzels. “You all know what that means,” he says, then the first few notes of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” drift through the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mabel pulling Logan to the dance floor.
I spin Fable twice, savoring the way her dress twirls around her pretty thighs. She laughs as she lands against my body, tucking herself closer this time. My hand spans her lower back, and I ease us into a slow rhythm.
“What about me?” she asks, eyes glittering under the bar lights. “What makes it hard to function?”
The tension thickens between us. Ican practically taste it in the air. Istare down at the freckles sprinkled over her cheeks. That perfect pink mouth I’d give anything to taste.
“Everything,” I admit, sliding a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She pouts. “That’s not fair. Itold you real things.”
“You’re right.” I take a breath and bring my thumb to her cheekbone. “First, it’s this blush. The way it flashes over your cheeks when you’re angry or happy.”
Her face goes scarlet like I’d hoped. Her breath hitches. The bar feels light-years away at this point. It’s just me and Fable here, floating in each other’s arms.
“Then, it’s when your eyes get fiery. Gold blazes in the center, andgod, I want to burn right there. Makes annoying you so fucking worth it.”
Her gaze holds mine, unflinching. She’s lost that giggly state from the table. Shifted into something serious, and I don’t know if that means she’s sobered, or if the tension between us has stolen away the humor.
I dip my chin to look between us where that freckle sits in the subtle slope of her cleavage. “And this damn freckle. You don’t know it, but you torture me with that freckle. Isearch for it every time I see you.”
Her chest moves with a breathy laugh. “Really?”
“Idreamabout that freckle.” I trace my thumb over the edge of her mouth. “It’s also the smiles you try to hide from me. Ilove catching a glimpse of them when you think I’m not watching.” A smile blooms under my touch. “But mostly, it’s you in general,” I say softly. “Your big, stubborn heart and your friendship and the way you make me feel safe with you.”
Her smile hitches wider—raw and open and beaming. My knees go wobbly at the sight of it.
She tips her head, assessing me. “Are we flirting?”
I move my hand back to her hip. “Yeah, we are.”
