“You’re a graphic designer, aren’t you? Wouldn’t be that hard.”
I’m about to give another sarcastic response when a door slams in the apartment. “Shit,” I mutter, sitting up so I can better hear the muffled voices in the hall.
“Is that Quinn?” Wes asks, making an attempt to sit up as well. There’s not enough room with both of us next to each other, though, so I crawl to the end of the bed and turn to face him, sitting cross-legged. This time he mimics my position.
“No,” I murmur. “It’s probably Ava and Kinsley. You’re not allowed to leave this room until they’re gone.”
He looks amused. “False imprisonment is a crime, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.” I scoot a bit closer, so our faces are mere inches apart, keeping in mind the gossips down the hall overhearing. “The assholes in the comments already think we’re dating. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to snap a photo of us coming out of my bedroom and post it on the forum with some moronic caption.”
He glances toward the door with hard eyes. “You know for sure they’re involved?”
“Not for sure, but I have a hunch.” They’re friends with Alexis, after all.
Wes reaches out to grab my hand, enfolding it in both of his. “I told you I’d get it taken down, but until then, you can’t live in fear.” He squeezes my fingers. “Don’t give them that power over you.”
“I just don’t want to provide any more ‘evidence’ for their false narrative,” I tell him. “They make it seem like we’re together or something.”
His jaw flexes. His grip on my hand tightens. “Why does it matter if they think we’re together?”
I frown at him, confused by the question. “Because. You won’t be able to date anyone else if people think I’m your girlfriend or your fuck buddy or I’ve got you under some witchy spell.” And though it feels like a knife sliding through my heart, I don’t stop there. “Like Lia, for example.”
Confusion clouds his features, and he blinks at me like he’s missing something. “Who’s Lia?”
“That girl in our class. She asked you out for coffee, remember?”
It takes a moment, but the memory finally clicks in his head. “Oh, right.” His brow furrows. “Who said I wanted to go out with her?”
“You told her you’d get coffee,” I pull my hand out of his and make air quotes, “‘another time.’”
He shakes his head at me, amusement dancing behind his eyes. “Ives, I say that to everyone I’m not interested in. Feels nicer than telling them I’ll never go out with them in a million years. It’s probably the wrong approach, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to be a total dick.”
I blink. Now it takes me a moment to process. “So…youdon’twant to date her?”
He can’t hide his laugh. “It never even crossed my mind. Not once.”
“Okay, well.” I shrug a shoulder, a bit thrown by his comments. “Not Lia then, but I’m sure there are other girls out there.”
He considers my statement, his eyes staring intently into mine. Something that looks a lot like longing flickers in their dark depths, and it takes all my effort not to look away. “What if Iamopen to something more?” he says softly.
Ice shoots through my veins, and I lose the staring match, my eyes dropping down to the bedspread. I struggle with the question because I’m absolutely dreading the answer. “With, um, who?”
His hand reaches out and settles on my knee, his other taking my own hand. His thumb traces circles in my palm, my skin tingling everywhere he touches, coaxing me to look up at him again. When I do, his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh. “Who do you think? With you, Ivy.”
TWENTY
My lips part,but nothing comes out. It’s a different kind of speechlessness than the one I usually experience. My mind is blank, and I can’t remember how to feel about the words he just spoke. I can’t make myself dissect them.
Slowly, his gaze shifts down to my lips. My heart pummels the wall of my chest, threatening to break through bone and skin and fabric and leave me bleeding out on this bed next to this beautiful boy. I don’t move. Can’t think. His fingers slide through my hair to cup the back of my head, his thumb sending a shiver through my body as it brushes my jawline. I don’t breathe as he lowers his mouth to mine.
He kisses me, a soft brush of lips, and the world doesn’t end. The opposite, in fact. It comesalive. And instead of crashing, the terrifying free fall leaves me floating like a feather, weightless and buoyant and light.
I feel the kisseverywhere, a full-body shiver from my lips to my toes. My insides go haywire. Blood rushes to my head. My pulse pounds in my ears. My stomach dips, desire asserting dominance against the fear and anxiety that normally reign.
All for a kiss. All for a sweet, wonderful, perfect kiss.
And as our lips come apart, I decide I don’t want them to. I lean back in for another, and he meets me halfway, our mouths brushing lightly. His tongue grazes my lower lip, tentative, and I part my lips on a gasp. Slowly, perfectly, our tongues move together, our kisses soft and gentle. Cautious and curious. Butterflies flutter in my lower abdomen, goosebumps raising across my skin as his hand flexes against my knee.
