“My dad is kind of an asshole and a less-than-stand-up guy in the eyes of… well, everyone else. So no, I’m not a good kid, but I’m trying to be better, do better.”
He takes a deep breath, and I’m not sure what he’s about to say, but I can tell it’s heavy, so I sit and listen.
“I hate the life we have, and at the first chance, I’m going to get my brother and me out. I‘ve already pretty much been raising him for the last few years as it is. It won’t be that different, being just us. Hell, it might even be better.”
His eyes shine with sincerity, hope, and a lingering sadness I relate to a little too well. I squeeze his arm, hoping to show him support and try to stop myself from pouting when he moves to pull away.
That is, until his fingers find mine, and even I hear the way my breath catches.
“Your reactions are enough to give anyone an ego boost, Blondie. Are you like this with all the guys?” He’s teasing me to break the tension; I can see it in his eyes.
Jordan does the same thing, always making me laugh in terrible situations.
“Only to the ones who give me terribly cliché nicknames,” I say with a smile, proud of myself when my words all come out right on the first try. Between the alcohol and how close he is, there was a good chance I was about to make a fool of myself.
He arches a brow at me, and I swear his eyes narrow, but it’s gone a moment later, and maybe I imagined it.
“Oh, and how many bad nicknames do you have?”
“None,” I admit, easier than I probably should, more interested in making him happy than in how pathetic that might sound.
My answer hangs in the air between us, and I lick my lips, unsure what to say now but feeling like I should say or do something.
His eyes flick down to track the movement, and this time there’s no mistaking the way his eyes change, his pupils expanding before my eyes.
I don’t know what makes me move, the alcohol or the way he looks at me, but I throw all reason out the window and lean into him, pressing up until my lips touch his.
It’s not a very good kiss, I’m sure, more like a simple brushing of lips, but it’s my first kiss, and I swear itfeelsmagical.
At least for me.
After a second, I pull back as doubt sets in, and I worry I’ve just messed up what might have been a friendship, if nothing else.
And this is why I don’t have any friends…
“I’m—”
My apology is cut off as his lips crash against mine, shutting me up in the most effective way known to man.
And oh my god,thisis a kiss.
His lips mold to mine, his hand tangling up in my hair so that he can manipulate the direction of my head, and I melt for him.
He tastes so fucking good, like strawberries and caramel, and as he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close, I realize it’s just him.
Everything about him feels right. From his scent to his taste, he feels safe, which isn’t something I’ve ever experienced outside of Jordan, and never like this.
Prologue
Gavin had been so mad about losing to Wren, again.
I wouldn’t say I enjoyed watching him lose, but man, seeing him knocked down a few pegs by a girl, no less, was pretty funny.
The craziest part, though, is that I don’t think she’s even really aware of their ‘rivalry,’ as he likes to call it.
Wren wasn’t the one glaring at him throughout the whole event, and when they won, she didn’t appear smug, even; just happy to have won, kinda.
I’d listened to my brother bitch and moan about her until I couldn’t possibly take another moment, so I left, telling him I needed a cigarette, which wasn’t a lie.
