Playing with Fire
Every cell in my body blossomed and sang. I arched my back, my mouth falling open to accommodate his tongue. The brush of his lips against mine sent a shiver down my spine, and I growled, the blood in my veins sweet and sticky.
West’s phone buzzed to life again. He pulled away quickly, breaking the trance we were in. He scrambled up to his feet, turning the light on, and I followed suit, gathering the discarded taco pieces as he turned his back to me and finally picked up the call.
“Yeah?” He sounded short of breath. Flustered. He was pacing now.
I busied myself, throwing the broken tacos into the trash, my eyes wandering discreetly to his jeans, detecting the outline of his erection. It was long, thick, and inviting. It was good to know that he was driving me mad, but that I was capable of doing the same to him.
Oblivious to my perverted thoughts, West turned around and ran a hand through his messy hair, giving me his back once again.
“Been busy.”
Pause.
“Just hanging out with a friend.”
Pause.
“Yeah, a she.”
Pause.
“Because there’s nothing to tell. She’s just a friend. As I mentioned in my previous fucking sentence. You should do more memory puzzles, Mom. Give your brain a little workout.”
Ouch.
“Feels about the same as last year.” He let out an icy, impersonal chuckle. “Anyway, gotta run. Say hi to Dad from me. Bye now.”
He shoved his phone into his back pocket and turned around, his cool, collected expression making me feel like I was a complete stranger. Like the entire day hadn’t happened.
“Ready to hit the road? I don’t know if I’m good to drive, but I’ll walk you home.” His jade eyes were hard as diamonds, and there was not even a hint of the warmth that swam in them a second ago.
“Was that your mom?”
I didn’t think I’d ever heard anyone talking to their mother so impersonally. As someone who grew up without a mother, I always watched the interactions my friends had with theirs carefully. The bickering, the exasperation, the vein of love running between them in an invisible cord.
The closeness varied, but there was always this underlying, built-in familiarity that wasn’t there between West and his mother.
“Yeah.” He helped me clean up the floor, going about everything quickly and efficiently, avoiding my gaze. Whatever that phone call had meant, it had thrown him off-kilter. “My friends know better than to try to celebrate my birthday, but my mother still tries.”
Why didn’t he celebrate his birthdays?
And why had he chosen to share this one with me?
I knew I wasn’t going to get any answers. Not tonight.
I rubbed his arm with a smile. “Wanna say hi to Grams?”
“Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “Only reason I hang out with your sorry ass is to get close with Mrs. S.”
West
And the Idiot of the Decade Award goes to …
Me.
It was going straight to my fucking open arms.
Kissing Texas was by far the craziest thing I’d done since moving to … well, Texas.
She’d been drunk enough to let it happen, and I was dumb enough to piss all over my rules.
My unlikely savior was my mother. The second I’d heard my phone ringing, I remembered.
Remembered why I was here.
Why I’d never go back to Maine.
Why I didn’t do girlfriends or serious relationships or had a plan for the future.
East was right—I liked Grace Shaw, and if I didn’t keep my hands to myself, I was about to drag both of us into a clusterfuck she didn’t deserve and I had no idea how to get out of.
No promises, no disappointments.
That was my motto in life.
Grace and I walked side by side. She was still buzzed, bouncing around and talking animatedly. She was cute with her little pink cap and blonde hair. A part of me couldn’t wait for the moment she’d see past her own insecurities and open up. Guys would start asking her out the minute she stopped giving them the don’t-get-close signals. Another part of me wanted to skin each and every one of those motherfuckers and make drum kits for orphans out of their flesh. They didn’t deserve her. I didn’t know who ‘they’ were per se. Just faceless, hopefully dick-less dudes.
“…said she might not let me pass this semester. Which is actually frightening. But I can’t go onstage. I know there’s some good special effects makeup, but what’s the point in that? Everyone would be trying to drill a hole through my makeup with their eyes to see my new face. The play would take the backseat, and my freaky new face would be the talk of town. No, I can’t go onstage. Not without the ball cap. Which, let’s admit it, isn’t really an option,” I heard Grace explaining in the background, and fuck, I’d blanked out again, this time thinking about what it’d have been like to finish that kiss. To have more than the quick peck we’d managed to slip through before I got a phone call.
“Who?” I asked as we reached her doorstep.
“Professor McGraw.” She stopped by the low gate leading to her house. “You wandered off, didn’t you?” She reached to stroke my hair to one side, trying to make it resemble something neat. I’d only cut it every few months, and even that only happened when East literally sat my ass down and put scissors to it.
I groaned, looking away. Girls touched me, constantly. Giving me head, kissing me, groping me, riding me. But it’d been a hot minute since anyone had touched me like that. With care instead of lust. No one since Whitley had, anyway.
The door swung open and an older woman breezed out, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Honey pie, I saw the porch lights turning on. I left you some food in the microwave, if the old bat didn’t get to it yet. Sorry I don’t have time to wait till you take your shower. Pete’s coming down with somethin’. No time to piddle. Call if you need me.”
“Thanks, Mar.” Texas reached on her toes to hug the woman. We both walked up to her porch. Marla clapped my shoulder on her way to her car in hello.
“Treat her nicely, boy, or I’ll be sure to acquaint you with my shotgun.”
Fucking Texas.
“I’ll entertain Mrs. S while you get a shower,” I offered Grace as Marla took off in her Dodge. The shotgun remark passed over her head like Marla had offered me tea.