My limbs are loose from the tiny sip I took and I’m the true definition of a lightweight, or maybe I’m tipsy from him. Maybe this is life on his planet? Now I’m brave enough to oogle him like I see the girls on the yard do. He’s fine and so drunk that I hear Los Angeles all up and through his words.
“You talk to everybody but me. That’s bad hospitality, don’t you think?” His fingers dig deep into my neck and I’m supposed to wince, but my body doesn’t cooperate. “Tell me something good…”
He’s so close I can see the layer of moisture on his bottom lip he’s always biting. Tonight is the most I’ve ever heard him talk and I want more—need more—I’m craving more. I still can’t believe he said he likes something about me.
“Or you too scared to do something like that,Lourdes,” he slurs, swiping his tongue out like I knew he would. “You too scared to talk to me?”
I want to say something just as clever and sexy back. I want him to believe I’m as experienced as he is. I don’t want him to know that the only boy I’ve ever kissed is Bryson, andthatwas an accident. I want to be audacious like Brandy and flirt without hesitating about how stupid I might look. There’s so much shit I want to say, but, “she won’t eat,” tumbles out of my mouth in a clumsy hiccup.
She won’t eat.Mamawon’t eat.
Damn, I fucked this moment up.
I step back to leave before Marcus pulls up, but Ace doesn’t budge. He still has my neck locked between his fingers and I’m waiting on the pity to show in his brown eyes.
“Okay,” he whispers.
“But—but you said to tell you something good an—and I—” I stumble over my words while he stares at me with the same expression he had when he scooped my burnt patties out of the skillet.
“And you did.”
“No… that—that’s not good. That’s not good. Hernoteating is not good.”
I want a do-over. I want to try again. I want to take back my first civilized set of words to him. I don’t know how to explain to him I’m not like any of the girls on campus. I can’t have a dorm room with a roommate. I don’t go to parties. I only take enough classes to keep my job on campus—
“Stop,” he says.
“Stop what?”
“Stop thinking so much.” He lifts the glass back to his lips and swallows. “Let me do that.”
“Do what?” I choke out.
“Think for you.”
“I don’t know you like that.” I frown. “How do I give my thoughts to somebody I don’t even know, anyway?”
I thought I only asked in my head, but it came out after he swallowed another burning gulp of Hennessy.
“The same way you let me give you something you wasn’t supposed to have that could’ve got you in trouble.” His lips curve up. “Trust.”
I’m even warmer now and his hand tightens around my neck. Everything bad feels good—even Mama not eating. My lips are loose and my voice is working and I’m already addicted to his voice despite the shit I talked about him when Marcus said he was coming over for dinner.
“Good and bad is all relative,” he adds, shrugging. “One person’s bad might be another person’s good.”
“And how did you decidemyMama not eating is good? Who said you could do that?”
My brain is on fire after being asleep around him for so long. I think I’m drunk for real this time, and none of my thoughts make sense. They’re jumping all over the place from his perfect lips to my word vomit. Fuck, I sound my age.
He laughs and his finger swipes my bottom lip again despite there not being any extra liquid there for him to clean.
I think my lips are another thing he might like about me, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I can’t unsee the Twitter picture of him and the girl he took to his prom back in Los Angeles.
“You said I could decide when you opened your mouth for me.” His finger falls. “Be careful of what you agree to do for men that just… ask.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’ll figure it out one day.” He reaches up and catches my nose between his index and middle finger.
