My breath stutters as I look up. I take my time, knowing exactly who I’ll see. That deep, husky voice belongs to one person alone.
Ender Vale.
His eyes brush over me, lingering for a second on my bare thighs. The bustling noise seems to dim around us as he studies me.
“Vale,” I breathe.
His hand is still wrapped around my elbow.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says lowly.
His eyes dip again, before returning to my face. Something dark flashes in his expression before his jaw tightens.
“What are you doing here, Warrick?” he asks in that demanding tone. “It’s past curfew.”
“It’s my birthday,” I say with a big grin.
The staff gave me a glittering, silver crown at Gray’s request, along with a sash. I point to my head, as if he didn’t already see the silly thing.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I hesitate. Even though Gray got us day passes, I don’t think Ender will approve. My brain is all fuzzy, but I know I shouldn’t tell him anything. He can’t be trusted.
“I should go,” I whisper. “Let’s pretend that we didn’t see each other, okay?”
I turn around to climb up when his hand clamps around my elbow. My skin burns where his fingers curl. And I exhale sharply.
“I’ll join you,” Ender says.
His voice is dark and laced with something unreadable.
“No,” I rush. “Go back to your friends.”
I spread my arms, blocking the staircase, which is dumb, but my drunken mind thinks it’s a brilliant idea, and that somehow my 5’4 self can outpower him.
“Vale, please, go away,” I whine. “It’s my birthday, and nobody likes you. You’ll ruin the mood.”
Ender’s brow thunders.
“Youlike me.”
I laugh, nearly doubling over at his words. I clutch my stomach, struggling to keep upright. My eyes sting with tears. That is by far the funniest thing he’s ever said to me.
Ender steps forward, chest brushing mine.
“Or maybe you only like me when my tongue is shoved down your throat,” he says lowly.
A shiver crawls up my back. I climb backwards until I’m three steps higher. Even with the added distance, he still towers over me.
His finger slips beneath my chin, a cold smile gracing his lips.
“Maybe you only like me when my hands are on you.”
His hands drop to my waist, pulling me towards him. I don’t realize that he’s dragged me a step down. My fingers rest on his chest. And I swallow as he bends down to whisper in my ear.
“Admit it,” he says softly. “Admit that you think about me, desperately, madly, constantly. Because I want nothing more than for you to feel half as wretched as I do.”
I blink, struggling to untangle his confusing words. It takes me a second to understand that he is gone. He is marching upwards like a man possessed.
