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“Do girls really hate being told to relax?” he asks me earnestly, pulling me from my thoughts.
“The last boyfriend who told me that ended up in a shallow grave in my backyard. My dad helped me cover it up because he said I’m too pretty for prison.” I keep my voice steady.
He freezes. His eyes run over my face, gauging my seriousness.
I smack his arm. “I’m joking! But yeah, I personally can’t stand it. Maybe you need to go to boyfriend school. Wait, have you ever been a boyfriend before?”
“Nope. I was never good at classes anyway. Teachers would find me roaming around the school or the library.” His cheeks blush, catching me off guard.
“You know hooky sounds less badass when you tell people you hung out in the library.”
The look he gives me makes me wonder if he’d smack my ass with a book if he could.
“What if I told you I snuck in because I invited a few girls to hook up between the stacks.”
My mouth drops open. “I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed by your love for literature and female company.”
“I can show you how much I love the second.” He beams at me.
Liam stares at me as a roar of laughter escapes my lips. His eyebrows lower like he thinks too hard, while his hands ball up next to him. Baby blues focus their attention on my lips before they roam across my body. My skin prickles at his assessment. I wish I could take things further with him, to test out his lips against mine, or to feel his skin under my fingertips. But I don’t at the same time.
Confusing as hell, I know.
Ever since our phone call a week ago, I can’t get him out of my head. The ideas that cross my mind are everything but friendly. I like us as friends, but I can’t help but wonder if I’d like us as more.
