Page 34 of Ruthless Game

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Pinky swear?”

I laughed in surprise. “You want me to pinky swear that I’m okay?”

He lowered his voice to a more serious register. “Starburst, you being okay is important. To me, I mean. So you being honest about it matters. To me, I mean.”

Oh, he was as awkward as I was. Usually he seemed so confident, sure of himself. I relaxed slightly, feeling like we were on even footing. Or, well, uneven footing, but like, the same.

“Why do you call me Starburst?” I asked.

He’d said it a few times, mostly under his breath, or when we were alone, the few moments before Jeffrey would show up and dispel the sparking energy between us.

He grinned again. “Because you love them. And because …” he cleared his throat, his next words so low I could barely hear him, but they sounded like, “youremindmeofthenightskyathome.”

“What?” My heart started pounding.

His eyes were so serious now, I forgot everything else. The bustling hallways, the bell sounding for our next class.

“You remind me of the night sky back in Maine,” he said. “You’re as pretty as a star.”

Ohmygod.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I told him honestly, forgetting to be tongue-tied and awkward for a moment.

He grinned again, even though his cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink.

“Say you’ll go out with me,” he said.

I gaped at him.

“But you’re my—but you live with me! There’s no way my parents will be okay with it.”

I had almost said brother, but he was only my billet brother. Regardless, we lived together, and there was no way we’d be able to date if we were living under the same roof. My parents didn’t let me date at all, and Jeffrey … I shivered. Jeffrey would lose his shit if I dated, he was so overprotective.

David—Max—clearly hadn’t expected that response, because he looked perplexed. “Sorry,” he finally mumbled. “My dad wouldn’t give a shit about stuff like that, so I forget some people’s parents are different.”

I physically deflated, weirdly disappointed that he’d given up so easily. I did like him, have a crush on him, and the idea that he liked me back had been so exciting, but he was right. I mean, I was right. We were both right. My parents did care, and they wouldn’t let us, and so this was going to be nothing but a bittersweet moment filed away in my brain to be taken out later and yearned over.

But then he was reaching his hand out and tucking a springy blonde curl behind my ear.

“We’ll convince them,” he told me, sounding so sure, I believed him. “I’ll act like the perfect gentleman, and they’ll trust us, and say yes to me taking you out.”

I stared up at him. I was sure there was wonder in my eyes. And the teensiest bit of cynicism.

“And you know that how?”

“Because I’ve never let anyone or anything get in the way of what I want, Starburst. And that’s not starting now.”

Each word shivered through me, delicious and alien. I stood there, stupefied, distracted by counting every single eyelash, every single freckle, until he tugged my hand.

“Let me walk you to class,” he ordered. “Let me do everything for you.”

And I did.

12