A smug, self-satisfied expression settles on his face, and damn it if he isn’t even more handsome with it.
“I’m not jealous. How am I supposed to be jealous? I broke up with you.”
“Uh-huh. And Gunner said that you’ve loved me this whole time. Nonetheless, it’s okay. You can admit if you’re jealous, Ivy.”
“There’s no one even to be jealous of,” I say, blowing out a breath.
He scrunches up his nose.
“You should really take me up on that toothbrush offer.”
“Well, now I’m just going to breathe harder in your face,” I say, huffing the words for maximum breath cruelty.
He laughs, then pinches his nose. “If you’re trying to turn me off with your bad breath, Ivy, it’s not going to happen. I’d still happily make out with you right now. In fact, I’d happily do a whole lot more.”
“Caleb.” I scrunch my nose. I was aiming for scandalized reaction, but instead his name comes out a breathy whisper that has his pupils dilating.
I wiggle slightly — and then stop, realizing we’re in a very compromising position.
Not that I’m complaining.
“Was there somebody else?” I press.
“Two somebodies,” he finally admits.
I let out a deep breath and sink against him.
“Are you mad?” he asks.
“Caleb, I would have to be the biggest hypocrite ever to be mad about that. I dated other people too.”
“You did?” he asks. “Who? I just want to talk.”
“Caleb,” I say, shocked.
I give the top of his arm a little slap, and burst into laughter.
“I thought you said I was the jealous one.”
“We can both be jealous,” he corrects. “I don’t think there’s any rule about only one person being jealous of the previous person’s relationships.”
“Oh,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Is that what you had? You had previous relationships?”
“Well, there was, you know, this one girl that I was madly in love with all through high school and college. You know, I thought we’d always end up together. She kind of looks like you,” he says.
I roll my eyes, slapping at the top of his bicep again, and we both laugh.
My fingers linger on the top of his arm a little too long.
“You’ve found a lot of muscle since then.”
“Was wondering how long it would take you to notice,” he says. “So tell me about your other relationships,” he prods, poking me gently in the chest.
His arm climbs up the base of my neck, my jawline, his hand landing there, holding me in place, forcing me to look at him instead of looking away. Looking anywhere else but him right now sounds like an absolutely terrible idea.
I lean into his palm and close my eyes.
“They were more like dates. A series of them. My sisters really were freaked out about me never wanting to be in a relationship with anyone ever again.”
