Page 75 of All The Ways to Miss You

She pouts a little for being called out, and it drives me so crazy, I have to grab the edge of my seat with both hands to stop myself from jumping across the table to kiss her pout away. Is she so clueless that she can’t see how she affects me? The answer is a definite yes. From the time she’s moved in, she’s been too consumed in her bubble to notice me. So now I need to figure out how to connect with her, or in her case, coax her to connect with me.

I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable, while twirling a pen between my fingers. “I think,” I pause to be dramatic, “I think you like me, and that’s why you don’t want me to stay. This handsome mug would be too distracting for you.”

“Pfft. In your dreams.” She rolls her eyes.

“Denial. It’s the first sign of love.” I lean into the table with a grin.

“Get over yourself,” she says, but her face betrays her. The blood’s rushing to her ears. She must sense the heat because she launches from her seat and scurries to the kitchen to open the refrigerator. She looks deep inside, moving food around.

“I’ll take a beer while you’re over there cooling off.” I laugh.

She stiffens. I can’t see her face, but her body language always gives her away. She’s contemplating her next move. How will she deal with the insinuation that she likes me? She can’t ignore it. It would be more denial, and she knows what I perceive as denial.

I didn’t really believe she loves me, or even likes me. I’d hoped, yes, but now I’m curious if there’s an attraction on her end too. I’m starting to think there is.

She removes two bottles of Goose Island beer and places them on the counter. Like a pro bartender, she uses the edge of the counter and the force of her palm to remove the caps. They snap off and ping across the kitchen before landing on the floor. With one bottle in each hand, she struts forward. She places a beer before me, and then takes a sip of her own.

“I didn’t peg you for the drinking type,” I say.

“And what type did you peg me for?” She places a hand on the table and leans.

“An uptight, prissy princess who’s never done anything remotely risky in her life. Drinking included. You know, because of all your rules.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, but then her shoulders drop from where they’re pinned near her ears. Something in her releases. Perhaps it’s my challenge that’s disarming her tightly wound personality, or maybe she’s borrowing my tactic—being the opposite of what’s expected.

She sets her glass down and lowers herself until we’re face-to-face. Her gaze level with mine, she places her hand on my chest. My muscles stiffen and my breath catches high in my throat from having contact. I can’t help it. I’ve been waiting for months for something as small as this.

I hold my breath to control my wild excitement. I may have been joking, but now I think she wants me. For real.

She traces her tongue over her pouty lips, drawing my gaze. They’re plump and glistening, and I can almost taste them just by looking at them. She leans closer until her lips graze mine, lightly brushing, barely touching. But this isn’t a kiss. This is a fucking tease. Her soft cheek brushes across the roughness of mine, while her breath warms the small space separating us. My dick stands alert, pressing into the zipper of my jeans.

“This is never going to happen,” she says softly. “Not. On. Your. Life.”

She steps away with a grin. Like some kind of seasoned seductress, she picks up her beer and slinks to her side of the table, leaving me frozen in shock. Then she relaxes in her chair, sipping her drink. She focuses on her schoolwork like nothing ever happened.

I stare at my own laptop, my eyes wide and unable to focus on anything but replaying our encounter in my mind. I can’t believe she had the lady balls to do that, but still, I don’t believe her. Not for one damn second. Something did happen between us, and she knows it.

I know she does because as the hours pass and we try to concentrate on our studies, she eyes me like she wants to do it again, and I invite her to with my best you-know-you-want-me grin.

thirty-four

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, laptop and books spread out before me, prepared for a repeat of the previous Saturday evening, but this time I have a game plan. The problem is Steph is cranky because I’m ditching her again. She argues I should put the moves on Cait on my own time, not hers. To butter her up, I reminded her she’s the one who made this happen. Steph, not fate. She’s not immune to a little ass-kissing, though I’m still not sure if I’m in the clear.

Someone knocks at the door, and as I stand to answer it, Cait appears from her bedroom dressed like a goddess in a fire-engine red dress. She stalks toward the door in heels the same color, which make her legs look even longer, if that’s possible.

My heart seizes when it dawns on me she might have a date. In all the time she’s lived here, she’s never dressed like this, and I’ve never, ever seen her hair down. I puff up my chest, preparing for the worst-case scenario, when she opens the door.

“Hey, come on in,” Cait says in a honey-sweet voice she’s never used on me.

My gaze falls to my socks because I’m unwilling to lift my eyes to the shithead who’s going to steal her from me.

“Glad someone wants to have fun tonight,” another voice says.

My irritation multiplies when I recognize Steph’s voice. She is the shithead. I should have known.

Steph continues with the punches. “Did you know Evan ditched me tonight? He said he needed to study. Boring, right? That’s why I was so happy we could do a girls’ night.” She hugs Cait the way girls do, halfheartedly and barely touching, so as not to mess up their makeup or hair.

“Girls’ night?” I glance between the two, relieved to see it’s Steph, but pissed because I know what she’s doing. She’s deliberately stealing my chance to hang with Cait, just to get back at me. Or maybe Steph is finally going to tell Cait my secret?