Well, that’s very rude because it’s one thing to almost ask me to reign in my crush, but it’s another thing entirely to tease me along.
I stand with my chin pointed up. If I’m about to go down with this ship, I should do it with dignity. “Santeria. Love that song, total banger.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fair. Can I just—” He motions for me to move to the side, leaning over my shoulder and bringing our chests together. I try to hide my gasp when his bare chest hugs the small patch of exposed skin near my collarbone. I’m only wearing a camisole under the zip-up, and my breasts are a little more exposed than I would typically feel comfortable around Jack… and now they’re pressed against him.
His lips hover inches from mine, and I close my eyes, feeling his finger trail across the back of my neck.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“My mom labeled all my clothes before I went to college. It annoyed me when she did it, but—gotcha. Well, I’ll be. It’s faded, but that sure looks like a J.P. to me. A peculiar thing to label your own sweatshirt, Aulie Desfleurs.” His breath falls hot against my cheek. If I just turn my head I could capture his mouth with mine. The yearning to do so, pulls my gut tight, like I’ve suddenly been poisoned, and his lips are the antidote.
I swallow. Hopefully, that’s the only thing decorated with Emy’s penmanship he uncovers today.
Cracking my eyes open, a teasing smile and a dangerous dimple greet me. Jack’s gaze bores into me, slowly searching my face for something—I don’t know what.
His hand falls to the small of my back, resting there.
The mask I’ve muscled to keep on my face the past few weeks slips. And I freaking swoon. How could I not?
Jack’s standing here all infuriatingly smug, with tattoos, a towel, and a face—looking like every dark fairy prince or rake I’ve read about in my varied romances that could destroy a woman with one look. Is this the new us? Him just lording my affections over me? Teasing me and stringing me along in a completely different way?
Ugh, I don’t think I could take too much of that—that may be worse than him being weirded out. Buthe isa cruel flirt, so I don’t know why I didn’t see this as a possibility.
I hesitate. “I may have kept the sweatshirt.”
“Did you now?”
“But it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just comfy.”
Slowly, his eyebrow arches, and his gaze lands on my lips and turns hooded. “I’m kind of starting to doubt that.”
Gently, he lifts my chin. My back hits the door, and his body leans into mine. My footing stumbles, and I grab the ledge of the closet to stabilize myself.
A little paper wafts to the floor between us and shakes Jack out of his trancelike state.
The sticky note Emy was talking about.
I stare down at it, laying face up.For jacking offis written in big black Sharpie. My eyes widen. Oh fuck.
“I’ll get it,” Jack says.
“Oh, no, I’m good. I’ve got it.” Quickly, I go to bend, and my hand flails, knocking the magazine and the box with the vibrator down with it. Oh. No. No. No. “No, seriously, Jack—”
Before I can stop him, Jack’s bending down to retrieve everything. He picks up the contraband. He quirks that darn brow again, and a whir of emotions fight for real estate on his face.
I clear my throat as a wildfire blazes across my cheeks. “I can explain. It, um, was a joke. A birthday gift from Emy—a terrible, in poor taste present—” I say the last part a little louder because there’s no way my best friend isn’t around the corner listening to this entire interaction.
Jack’s eyes widen, glancing at the spread littered with hearts. His jaw tightens. “She got you the body issue and a vibrator…as a joke?”
“I’m so sorry.” Oh, dear Lord Jesus, please just strike me down now. Tears prick my eyes, and I cover my face. “I promise, I heard you loud and clear at the orchard. I will get this crush under control—please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I know how it must look, but I’ll—I’ll work harder at making sure whatever feelings I’ve been harboring the past few weeks stay stamped down—I did it once before, you know, and you didn’t know then, so I’m sure—”
“Wait, wait, wait… Dessy, what do you think I was about to say at the orchard?” Slowly, he peels my fingers down and regards me with—what is that look…pity? That’s better than cruelly flirting with me or being creeped out…I guess.
“I need to get my feelings in check because they’re starting to make you uncomfortable because you clearly don’t feel that way about me and never will. And I promise, this—this wasn’t me. Emy drew the hearts and the Mrs. Jack Parker stuff.”
Jack’s lips part, waffling between open and closed, and I wait for the gentle letdown. He shakes his head, his lips tugging into a smirk on one side. “I—uhm, I need to go get dressed and run some errands, but we can talk about this later, yeah?”
That’s…it?
