Page 62 of Hating On Riot

“I do.” He takes another sip of his coffee, then glances at the time on the dash. Knowing me well, he gets us to campus an hour before classes start.

“How about the lavender farm and the corn maze with the pumpkin patch?”

“Yep.” He pops the P, that butt!

Smiling, finding him absolutely adorable and sexy, I playfully swat his shoulder.

He grabs my hand as soon as I do and plants a kiss on my palm, leaving a soft tingle that travels up my arm and settles in my chest as warmth, like the sun on my face.

“Well, the house that’s going up for auction is in between those places. It’s two stories. Has a wrap-around front porch and big picture windows. There’s a fireplace, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a beautiful kitchen that opens up to a covered deck with a view of an open field that blossoms with colorful flowers in spring and summer.”

“Sounds dreamy.”

We’re stopped at a red light. I shoot him a sideways glance, believing he’s making fun of me, but he has a straight face.

“What if the job requires you to move?”

“If I get my dream house, I’d stay. There’s plenty of remote positions I could apply for.”

“And your brothers?” he asks, cautiously. “Where will they be after you graduate? Will they go where you go? Live where you live? Ask a million gazillion questions of any guy you plan on dating? Not that you will,” he growls. “You are mine, Arie Kim.”

I don’t acknowledge the last sentence. We already know I’m his, and that I won't date anyone but him. “They'll always be around, just like your brothers will never stop being family.”

“They hate me.” There’s defeat in his voice. He wants my brothers to like him. The light turns green. He goes through the intersection. We’re almost to the campus.

“They’ll get over it.” I grab his coffee from the cup holder and hand it to him. “Drink. We only had a few hours of sleep, and it’s getting cold.”

We shouldn’t have, but we stayed up all night with the house guys. They played their video games. I cheered them on in my pajamas, liking the noise they made. It's similar to when my brothers watch football games, but different because these guys are my age, and they are Riot’s friends. They’re mine too, I realize.

My heart bursts with joy.

He takes a few sips before he plunks the cup back in the cup holder.

“It was nice snuggling with you,” I confess, taking another sip of my mocha.

“Don’t change the subject. And we did more than snuggle.”

We did. We kissed and kissed. He held me tight to him. I squirmed, which got him hard and had my nipples pressing against my thin tank top. We took a break. Cooled down. Then he got me on my back, went low, and had me coming so hard, I saw stars, before I made him come in my mouth.

We’ll have to make love soon. I’m burning up for him. His kisses are hungry, desperate, like he thinks our time will end the moment Cooper confirms it’s Hope he’s been hung up on. The thought of our agreement with Cooper squeezes my chest like a vise. We shouldn’t be kissing and touching one another. We should’ve waited until our agreement was over.

But when he made me come on his face, then kissed me, giving me a taste of my arousal, before he pulled me into his arms and held me like I was the most precious person to him, I didn’t regret what we did. No refunds. No takebacks.

I accept what we have. What we’ll have once Coop gets his happily-ever-after. Once I move out of the rugby house, we’ll find a way to see one another again.

We’ve done it before, seeing one another in secret. We didn’t kiss for three years. That stolen kiss . . . My fingers go to my mouth. That stolen kiss was everything I expected in my first kiss. Warm. Hungry. Swoon-worthy. My insides melted. My core ached. My heart exploded with all these feelings—happiness, excitement, anticipation of more kisses to come—without realizing our first kiss would be the end of us.

What Cooper and I have isn’t real. He’s my best friend, but not my number one friend. Riot holds that top spot now. I can have two best guy friends. I mean, I have four best girl friends, and none of them throw a fit or get jealous when I spend more time with one than the other.

Me, Riot, and Cooper can make our friendship work. I know we can. God, I hope we can. I don’t want to lose either of them. I don’t want to have to choose, either. That’s what happened four years ago. I chose my brothers over my love for Riot.

His grumpy words bring me out of my thoughts.

“They’ll never get over their hate for me.”

“Can we not talk about them?” I’m not ready to bring up how we’ll see each other secretly or what we’ll do if we get caught.

I set my drink down and reach for his hand. We’re almost to the campus.