Page 75

He holds out his hand, and I place my iPhone in his palm. His thumbs fly across the screen, and a second later, his phone rings.

“There.” He slides my phone back across the table. “Now you can call me next time you decide to go somewhere shady.”

I grin. “You’d better keep your phone handy. For all I know, Nicole’s plotting a round of naked Twister as we speak.”

“Kennedy . . .” He lowers his head to the table with a dull thud.

I reach across the table and place my hand over his. “I’m kidding.”

He lifts his gaze to mine, his pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

“I get why you don’t like her. She can be a little much sometimes.” I offer a slight smile. “But she really is looking out for me.”

“It’s . . .” He flips his hand over and slides his fingers between mine. “I hate this game. I know why you’re doing it, and I even understand on a basic level.”

“It doesn’t get any more basic than losing my virginity, does it?”

Jordan rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the sex. I get why you want to control the situation . . . own the narrative. But I still hate it.”

“Believe me, I hate it, too. You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be on display 24-7. People whispering behind your back. Snapping your picture when you’re not looking. Dissecting your personal life with a scalpel.” I drop his hand and sag against the seat with a huff.

Jordan shakes his head, eyes flashing. “You have no idea what I understand. What I’ve lived through. What I’ve lost.”

“Your parents,” I whisper.

He nods, and the raw emotion in his gaze hits me like a gut punch.

I ease my hand across the table, slipping my fingers through his again. “Will you tell me what happened to them?”

“Maybe . . .” His breath hitches, the tension in his muscles slipping away. “Someday.”

I nod and glance at his hair. Even with the green streaks, the style is trendy—shorter on the sides, longer on top—and it suits him. “I like your hair like this.”

He blushes, running a hand through his dark waves. “I know.”

A few weeks ago, I was borderline terrified of him, and now, his smile makes my heart flutter. “I can’t believe I was afraid of you.”

“I never meant to scare you.”

“Come on. Admit it.” I laugh. “You liked scaring me.”

His grin widens. “Maybe a little—especially after I saw that damned list. I don’t still scare you, do I?”

“No.”

“Not even the piercings?” He tugs on one of the silver hoops with his teeth.

I zero in on the shiny snakebites running through his lower lip. Those have starred in more of my dreams than I’ll ever admit. “I actually like the piercings, and the vintage clothes—especially the red leather pants.” My face goes up in flames.

“I couldn’t tell.” He winks.

Mortified, I cover my eyes with both hands.

“Hey.” He pries my fingers from my face. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me.”

“I . . .” I blow out a breath.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”