Hands drop to my shoulders, gently. “Whoa. Fireball. Where’s the fire?”
“I…” I see the tattoos first. Then the smirk. Then the eyes. Hazel. They’re hazel. “I… I just…”
“Didn’t want to be kissed by him,” the stranger finishes for me. Is he a stranger? He looks familiar for some reason. His smirk is fading but his expression remains soft. Kind. “Don’t worry. He didn’t read the signs. He’s not offended. He’s still up there waiting for you to come back.”
“I… I will.”
“Nah. You won’t.”
“I should.”
“You shouldn’t,” he counters calmly. “Because you don’t really want to.”
He’s right. How is he right? I don’t even know him. “I had a plan.”
“To kiss a guy who makes you look like your puppy just died?” he asks me, the smirk reappearing. “That’s an awful plan.”
“I did NOT look like a puppy had been murdered!” I realize his hands are still on my shoulders, so I take a step back, even though his touch doesn’t bother me.
“Murdered? Whoa Fireball, I didn’t say this was aDatelineepisode. Maybe the puppy died by accident. Like it got hit by a car." He laughs softly, but it's deep and has bass to it, and I find myself biting back a smile. I like it. I like this whole thing with this stranger. This is drunk, I guess, liking ridiculous conversations with tattooed strangers.
“Manslaughter,” I reply. “That’s puppy manslaughter.”
“Are you a law student or an animal rights activist?” He tilts his handsome head as he studies me.
"Neither. I mean, I love puppies, I'm not a serial killer. But I'm an Art Education major," I reply. His smile drops in shock. "Surprise, Inky! I'm not some shot-slurping bimbo. And who I kiss, and if I like it or not, is none of your business."
He steps back like I slapped him, but his smile returns with an intensity I wasn't expecting. "Okay. All valid points. But for the record, I didn't think you were a… shot slurping bimbo. I don't even know what that is, and I would never shit on any woman for kissing anyone, even if they didn't like it."
“Oh.” I blink and my tipsy little mouth won’t shut up. “I’m not degrading women either. It’s a valid life choice, being sexually liberated and liking shots. I just… I’m just not good at it, I guess.”
“Just admit you didn’t like him,” Hottie Mc Stranger says. “Give me that. Also, what’s Inky?”
"You" I point to his arms covered in tatts, but my depth perception is off and I end up poking his forearm.
As soon as my finger touches his skin I feel a snap of electricity between us, like static electricity but stronger and deeper and much more enjoyable. My finger stays there like it's stuck to his warm, smooth skin and I trace one of the lines on his arm, the stem of a rose. It's nice.
His eyes drop and watch my finger move. There's something hot about it. Something intimate, which is weird. Right? I mean what do I know? Nothing and that's why I'm here. To change that. "I should get back to what's his face."
“The guy you don’t like kissing?”
I frown and our eyes meet again. Man, he’s fucking something. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” he says easily. This is not news to him. He doesn’t need to hear it. Oh to be that self-assured. “You’re beautiful.”
A blush blooms on my skin. I look away and concentrate on tracing another tattoo. Until he puts a finger under my chin and tips my head up toward his. “Now admit you didn’t like kissing him.”
“Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re staying at the Wynn. I know you like to punch things.” Okay… maybe that’s a red flag. Maybe this is a sign there’s danger. He smiles that sweet yet confident smile at me again. “I was in the gym this afternoon when you walked in. I’m staying there too. I’ll try not to take it personally you didn’t notice me.”
“Oh.” So that’s why he looks familiar. I remember there being men in the gym, but only vaguely. Because I almost turned around and left when I saw them. But how the hell am I forgetting what this specimen looks like in workout wear? Tenley wouldn’t. Hell, even my book nerd of a little sister Mae wouldn’t have missed him. I think I’m broken.
“You gonna say it now, Fireball?”
“I didn’t like kissing him,” I blurt out and it feels good, which I wasn’t anticipating. I ignore his victorious smirk and look him dead in the eye. “But I do like kissing. So I should have liked it with him. I blame me, not him.”
“Bullshit.” His voice is so strong and confident it’s contagious and I start to feel it too. “Chemistry isn’t easy. You didn’t have it with him, maybe because I stole it.”
