Page 68 of What About Us

“It sucked. For me, not for you. You were the jock and you’re funny, and all of the girls adored you. The boys wanted to be you. It was almost annoying, except you’re so nice.”

He laughs at that and keeps rubbing my calf.

“I was the opposite. Nerdy, quiet. I kept to myself and was kind of a wallflower. And I didn’t mind. I’ve never really liked to be the center of attention. But I think that bullies like to hunt for the quiet kids and then humiliate them.”

He stops rubbing and scowls at me. “What the fuck?”

“I told you, this isn’t a great story for me. But you were always nice to me. You saved me from bullies more times than I can count. Thanks to you, I was only shoved in a locker once, when you weren’t around to save me.”

He doesn’t crack a smile at my joke.

“You would tell the assholes to leave me alone. That’s all.” Except, that meant everything to me. “It’s not like you flirted with me or anything like that. And you definitely wouldn’t have because, like I said, we were so vastly different. But it was nice to have just one person treat me like a human being, you know?”

He moves to the other foot and gives it the same attention.

“I want to remember it,” he admits. “I’d love to remember what you were like as a teenager.”

“No, you don’t. I was awkward, with thick glasses and braces and curves in all the wrong places thanks to a really horrible transition through puberty.”

“That’s not who you are at all now,” he says.

“Thanks to contacts and growing into my adult body, you’re right. I hit my stride after high school.” I grin. “And now I know that the reason you don’t remember is because of injuries, not because⁠—”

I bite my lip, and he lets go of my foot and pulls me up against him.

“I want to lie on top of you, but you’ll yell at me for it.”

“Too much strain on the knee,” I agree, but my voice is breathy now. Because his gaze his hot and intense and holy shit.

“I hate that I can’t remember because I do recall the hurt on your perfect face at the bar that night when I used the wrong name when I spoke to you, and it kills me that I made you feel any kind of way for even a heartbeat when you absolutely don’t deserve that.”

He drags his knuckles down my cheek, and I feel like purring again.

And then, his mouth is on mine, and I can’t think at all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

XANDER

Jesus H. Christ, her little noises are going to be the fucking death of me. Ivy whimpers as I cup her sweet face and jawline and ghost my thumb over those freckles. God, she smells good, and her skin is so goddamn soft I never want to take my hands off her. I lick over her plump bottom lip, then pull it between my teeth, and . . .

I’ve been here before.

Her hand drifts up into my hair, and she rubs her little nose on mine before we sink in again. My tongue brushes over hers, and she whimpers once more as my free hand journeys down to her ass, giving it a squeeze, and I fucking love how it fills out my palm, as if it was made for me. I love every curve on her.

I know I’ve felt this before. Her taste and smell are familiar. I’ve wanted her, just like this.

And a little flash moves through my mind.

I pull back, frowning down at her, and when she opens those gorgeous blue eyes, they widen, and she tries to scramble away, but I hold her firm.

“Stay,” I say, my voice rough with need. I want to keep her right where she is.

“I’m sorry. That was unprofessional.”

I shake my head and drag my thumb over her lip, wet from our kiss. “I’m not sorry, but Ivy . . . I’ve kissed you before.”

Her brows lift in surprise.