“That’s all I ever want,” she says, mimicking my own words.
I grin. “All right, then. I guess I felt . . . horny.”
When I say the word horny, I swear she sucks in a breath. She’s quick to recover, though. “So you get the butterflies and the sweaty palms and the rapid heartbeat and all that?” she asks.
“Yeah. Not with every girl I’ve been with, but most of them.”
She tilts her head toward me and arches an eyebrow, which makes me grin. “There weren’t that many,” I say. At least I don’t think there were that many. I’m not sure what number constitutes a lot at this point and even then, people measure things on different scales. “What’s your point?” I ask, relieved she isn’t asking me to clarify exactly how many there have been.
“My point is that I don’t. I don’t feel any of that. When I make out with guys, I don’t feel anything at all. Just numbness. So sometimes I let Grayson do what he does to me, not because I enjoy it, but because I like not feeling anything at all.”
I was absolutely not expecting that answer. I’m not sure that I like that answer. I mean, I like that she doesn’t actually feel anything for Grayson, but I hate that it hasn’t stopped her from letting him try to get what he wants.
I also don’t like that she admitted to never feeling anything, because I can honestly say when I’m around her, I’ve never felt so much.
“I know it doesn’t make sense, and no, I’m not a lesbian,” she says defensively. “I’ve just never been attracted to anyone before you and I don’t know why.”
I quickly turn and look at her, not sure that I heard her correctly. But based on her reaction and the way her arm comes up and immediately covers her face, I know for a fact I heard her correctly.
She’s attracted to me.
And she didn’t intend to admit that out loud.
And I’m pretty sure that accidental admission just made my entire year.
I reach over and slide my fingers around her wrist, pulling her arm away from her face. I know she’s embarrassed right now, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting this go.
“You’re attracted to me?”
“Oh, God,” she groans. “That’s the last thing you need for your ego.”
“That’s probably true,” I admit, laughing. “Better hurry up and insult me before my ego gets as big as yours.”
“You need a haircut,” she blurts out. “Really bad. It gets in your eyes and you squint and you’re constantly moving it out of the way like you’re Justin Bieber and it’s really distracting.”
I know she doesn’t have access to technology, so I let it slide that Justin Bieber cut his hair off a long time ago. I’m disappointed that I even know that. I tug at my hair with my fingers and fall back against my pillow. “Man. That really hurt. It seems like you’ve thought that one out for a while.”
“Just since Monday,” she says.
“You met me on Monday. So technically, you’ve been thinking about how much you hate my hair since the moment we met?”
“Not every moment.”
I laugh. I wonder if it’s possible for people to fall in love with a person one characteristic at a time, or if you fall for the entire person at once. Because I think I just fell in love with her wit. And her bluntness. And maybe even her mouth, but I won’t allow myself to stare at it long enough to confirm.
Shit. That’s already three characteristics and I’ve only been here an hour.
“I can’t believe you think I’m hot,” I say, breaking the silence.
“Shut up.”
“You probably faked passing out the other day, just so you could be carried in my hot, sweaty, manly arms.”
“Shut up,” she says again.
“I’ll bet you fantasize about me at night, right here in this bed.”
“Shut up, Holder.”
“You probably even . . .”
She slaps her hand over my mouth. “You’re way hotter when you aren’t speaking.”
I shut up, but only because I want to revel in the fact that this night has already turned out better than I ever anticipated. Every second I’m with her I like her more and more. I like her sense of humor and I like that she gets my sense of humor. She’s the first girl besides Les to ever actually give me a run for my money and I can’t seem to get enough of it.
“I’m bored,” I say, hoping she’ll suggest an interesting make-out session in lieu of staring at her ceiling. Although, if my options are limited to staring at her ceiling all night or going home, I’ll gladly stare at her ceiling.
“So go home.”
“I don’t want to,” I say resolutely. I’m having way too much fun to go home. “What do you do when you’re bored? You don’t have internet or TV. Do you just sit around all day and think about how hot I am?”
“I read,” she says. “A lot. Sometimes I bake. Sometimes I run.”
“Read, bake, and run. And fantasize about me. What a riveting life you lead.”
“I like my life.”
“I sort of like it, too,” I say. And I do like it. We already have the running in common. And she may not realize it, but we also have the fantasizing in common. I don’t bake, but I do like her baking.
That leaves reading. I read when I need to, which isn’t a lot. But I suddenly want to know everything about everything that interests her and if reading interests her, it interests me too. I reach over and pick up the book from her nightstand. “Here, read this.”
“You want me to read it out loud? You’re that bored?”
“Pretty damn bored.”
“It’s a romance.” She says it like it’s a warning.
“Like I said. Pretty damn bored. Read.”
She shrugs and adjusts her pillow, then begins reading.
“I was almost three days old before the hospital forced them to decide. They agreed to take the first three letters of both names and compromised on Layken . . .”
She continues to read and I continue to let her. After several chapters, I can’t tell if my rapid-fire pulse is a result of listening to her voice for so long or if it’s from the sexual tension in the book. Maybe both of them coupled together is what’s doing it. Sky should really think about a career in voiceovers or audiobooks or some shit like that because her voice is . . .
“He glides across the room . . .”
Her voice is trailing off.
“. . . and bends down, snatching up the . . .”
And . . . she’s out. The book falls against her chest and I laugh quietly, but I don’t get up. because the fact that she fell asleep doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave.
I lie with her for about half an hour, confirming the fact that yes, I’m definitely in love with her mouth. I watch her sleep until my phone chimes. I scoot her away from me and onto her back, then pull my phone out of my pocket.
Dude. It’s Daniel, me. Val is f’ng crazy n I think I’m at that Burker Ging and come get me I can’t drive. I drank and I hate her.
I text him back immediately.
Good idea. Stay put. Be there in thirty.
I slide the phone back in my pocket, but it sounds off again with an incoming text.
Holder?
I shake my head and shoot a text back that says, Yeah? He replies immediately.
Oh, good. Just mak’n sure it was u, man.
Jeez. He’s more than just drunk.
I stand up and take the book out of her hands, then set it on the nightstand and mark the page she stopped at so I’ll have an excuse to come back over here tomorrow. I walk to the kitchen and spend the next ten minutes cleaning up her mess. I swear you would think she harbored resentment toward flour considering the amount I have to wipe up. After all the food is wrapped in Saran Wrap (minus the few cookies I might have swiped), I walk back to her bedroom, then sit down on the edge of her bed.
She’s snoring.
I love it.
Shit. That’s four things already.
I really need to lea
ve.
Before standing up to leave, I slowly lean forward, hesitating, not wanting to wake her. But I can’t leave here without a little preview. I continue inching toward her until my mouth grazes her lips, and I kiss her.
Chapter Thirteen-and-a-half
* * *
Les,
Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky, Sky.
There. Get used to it, because I have a feeling she’s all I’m going to be talking about for a while. Oh, my God, Les. I can’t even explain to you how perfect this girl is. And when I say perfect, I mean imperfect, because there’s just so much wrong with her. But everything wrong with her is everything that draws me in and makes her perfect.
She’s flat-out rude to me and I love it. She’s stubborn and I love it. She’s a smartass and she’s sarcastic and every witty thing that comes out of her mouth is like music to my ears because that’s exactly what I want. She’s what I need and I don’t want her to change at all. There’s not a single thing about her I would change.
There is one thing about her that worries me, though, and that’s the fact that she seems to be a little emotionally detached. And as noticeable as it was when I saw her with Grayson, I don’t see that at all when she’s with me. I’m almost convinced she feels different about me, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t feel anything if I kissed her. Because dammit, Les, I want to kiss her so fucking bad but I’m too scared. I’m scared if I kiss her too soon, it’ll feel like every other kiss she’s ever received. She’ll feel nothing.
I don’t want her to feel nothing when I kiss her. I want her to feel everything.
H
Chapter Fourteen
What you want to do tonight?
I read Daniel’s text and respond.
Sorry. Plans.
WTF, puss flap!? No! Me. You. Plans.
Can’t. Pretty sure I have a date.
Sky?
Yep.
Can I come?
Nope.
Can I be your date next Saturday, then?
Sure, babe.
Can’t wait, sugar.
I laugh at Daniel’s text, then clear the screen and find Sky’s number. I haven’t heard from her since she fell asleep on me last night, so I’m not even sure if she wants me at her house tonight.
What time can I come over? Not that I’m looking forward to it or anything. You’re really, really boring.
After I hit send, I get another incoming text from a number I don’t recognize.
If you’re dating my girl, get your own prepaid minutes and quit wasting mine, Jackass.
The only person I know with prepaid minutes is Sky. And she said her best friend bought her the phone, so I’m seriously hoping this text is from her friend and not someone else. I immediately text back, hoping to find out more.
How do I get more minutes?
As soon as I hit send on that text, Sky’s response comes through.
Be here at seven. And bring me something to eat. I’m not cooking for you.
Rude.
I love it.
• • •
She texted me again while I was at the grocery store, asking me to hurry. I really, seriously like that she wanted me here sooner. I like it a lot. I like her a lot. I like this whole weekend a lot.
Her front door swings open just moments after I ring the doorbell. She’s smiling as soon as she sees me and I curse under my breath because that’s just one more thing about her that I just fell in love with. She looks down at the sacks of groceries in my hands and arches an eyebrow.
I shrug. “One of us has to be the hospitable one.” I walk up the steps and ease past her, then make my way into her kitchen. “I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs, because that’s what you’re getting.”
“You’re cooking dinner for me?” she asks skeptically from behind me.
“Actually, I’m cooking for me, but you’re welcome to eat some if you want.” I glance back at her and smile so she’ll know I’m teasing.
“Are you always so sarcastic?”
I shrug. “Are you?”
“Do you always answer questions with questions?”
“Do you?”
She grabs a towel off the bar and throws it at me but I dodge it. “You want something to drink?” I ask her.
“You’re offering to make me something to drink in my own house?”
I walk to the refrigerator and scan the shelves, but my options are limited. “Do you want milk that tastes like ass or do you want soda?”
“Do we even have soda?”
I peer around the refrigerator door and grin at her. “Can either of us say anything that isn’t a question?”
“I don’t know, can we?”
“How long do you think we can keep this up?” I ask, taking the last soda from the fridge. “You want ice?”
“Are you having ice?”
Dammit, she’s cute. “Do you think I should have ice?”
“Do you like ice?”
She’s quick. I’m impressed. “Is your ice any good?”
“Well, do you prefer crushed ice or cubed ice?”
I almost answer by saying cubed, but realize that wouldn’t be a question. I narrow my eyes and glare at her. “No ice for you.”
“Ha! I win,” she gloats.
“I let you win because I feel sorry for you,” I say, making my way back to the stove. “Anyone that snores as bad as you do deserves a break every now and then.”
“You know, the insults are really only funny when they’re in text form,” she says.
She stands up and walks to the freezer at the same time I turn around to walk to the refrigerator for the minced garlic. Her back is to me and she’s filling her cup with ice. She turns around when I reach the refrigerator. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes and those pouty lips and I take a step closer to her, hoping I make her flustered again. I love making her flustered.
I lift my arm and press my palm flat against the refrigerator and look her in the eyes. “You know I’m kidding, right?”
She immediately sucks in a rush of air and nods. I grin and move in even closer. “Good. Because you don’t snore. In fact, you’re pretty damn adorable when you sleep.” I don’t know why I told her she didn’t snore. Maybe I don’t want her to know just how long I actually stayed in her bed watching her after she fell asleep last night.
She tugs on her bottom lip, looking up at me hopefully. Her chest is heaving and her arms are dusted in chills and I wish more than anything I could just grab her face and kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I want air.
But I already told myself I wouldn’t, so I’m not.
That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with her, though. I move my lips until they’re almost touching her ear. “Sky. I need you . . .” I pause for a second and wait for her to catch her breath. ”. . . to move. I need in the fridge.” I pull back and watch for her reaction. Her palms are flat against the refrigerator behind her like she’s struggling to hold herself upright.
Losing Hope Page 12