“Just when I taste victory on your lips, I realize that you're not just sweet. You're dangerous.Because honey can drown you if you take too much at once.And I will never get enough.”
Rielle glanced up, signaling the end. The audience applauded enthusiastically. Theory grabbed my wrist beneath the tablecloth. She didn't move it. She just stopped me.
For now.
She made a tiny, frustrated sound she probably didn’t mean for me to hear.
I heard it, though.
“Greedy,” I teased.
“Shut up.”
“You hot?”
She glared at me. “I hate you.”
“Liar.”
“Donotstart tonight,” she warned.
I pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “You started it when you wore this dress.”
“I wore this dress because it’s cute.”
“You wore this dress because you wanted me to suffer.”
“And yet, here I am suffering,” she muttered.
“Good.”
Her head turned. “Good?”
“A lil’ suffering builds character, or whatever Job said.”
She glared at me, but then she grabbed my hand as Rielle nodded toward us. For a few seconds, she sat there with her hand tangled in mine, staring at the stage like she had forgotten where we were. She finally turned toward me. Her eyes were wet, her mouth trembling.
“You wrote for me.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You so unfair,” she whispered.
I brought her hand to my lips. “I know.”
“No. I mean it, Targen. You can’t just…” She stopped, searching for the right words. “You can’t just learn me like this and then use it against me.”
I chuckled. “I’m not using it against you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m using itforus,” I corrected.
She stared at me. I leaned closer.
“What you thinking,malyshka?”
She glared at me. “Don’t.”
