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I allowed that to sink in a moment. So that’s why he was always giving me and Kira funny looks during science lab. “That is wrong on so many levels,” I said.
Carson’s cheeks flushed in a way that I was pretty sure was an indicator of guilt. As I stared up at him, my entire high school love life started flashing in my head. Guys would seem so into me, and then—boom—out of nowhere they’d turn cold, and it was as if I never stood a chance.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, my question stuck in the back of my throat. Carson wasn’t that cruel, was he?
Who was I kidding?
“When Pete Wolfe asked me to homecoming—”
“I told him you kiss like a dog.”
My eyes widened as anger welled up inside me like a geyser, ready to blow. “Last year, Robby Mason told everyone he was asking me to junior prom. Then at the last minute, he changed his mind and asked someone else, and I had to go with Ethan.”
Carson pulled a face; one I couldn’t decipher. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
I pointed at him. “What? What is that face?” I poked him in the ribs, and his hands tightened around my arms.
“He might’ve decided not to ask you because he heard your dad showed up on a date once with a loaded shotgun.”
“What? That?
??s not true. My dad doesn’t even own a—"
Laughter ripped from his chest.
Glaring, I said, “You told him that?”
“I may or may not have let it slip at one of my parties.”
“But why?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want you to go with him.”
“Because. . .?”
“Which one? Robby? He has chronic halitosis. Trust me, I did you a favor.”
My hands fisted at my side as a wave of anger shot through me. How dare he take my choices away. I could’ve given him some mints, gum, something! “Let me get this straight,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re trying to claim that you saved me from bad breath?”
“You’re welcome.” His blue eyes sparkled. I wanted to cover them with my hands because they were too beautiful for someone so rude.
“How many times have you done this? Scared boys away?”
“I don’t know. Only a few times.”
I stepped forward, pushing him back until he was up against the counter. “Why? Do you really hate me that much?” I asked, mortified at the way my voice cracked. Any second I’d burst into tears, and then I’d really look like an idiot.
“I don’t hate you, Mia,” he murmured.
I tried to shove him again, but he had nowhere to go, so instead, he pulled me closer. And as he slid his hands up and down my arms, I shivered. Even when he tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, goosebumps covered my skin everywhere he touched.
What was he doing?
Then he leaned down and whispered in the shell of my ear, “I’m sorry.” When he pulled away, his gaze was soft on mine.
My breath caught in my throat, burning in my lungs—an inferno inside my chest. The flames ate me alive as his gaze flickered to my mouth.
On an inhale, I mustered my courage because I needed to know. Right now, he wasn’t acting like he hated me. Not at all. He was looking at me like maybe he liked me, like he wanted to kiss me. And the craziest thing was that I kind of wanted him to.
