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His stubbornness sets me off.
“Will, I swear to God, say ‘no one’ one more time and I’m kicking you in the balls.” I stick my finger in his face.
In response to that, he laughs.
Yes, laughs.
And I know this is arguably the worst moment for laughter, but it feels insanely good to see him smile. It takes me back to the beginning. Back to the nicknames, the jokes. This is the reason I caught feelings in the first place.
Our back-and-forth banter, the teasing.
That laugh.
I missed it.
Straightening out his hand, he asks me for my keys, which I dump into his palm.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He unlocks the door.
I’m not sure why he’s sticking around. My guess is he thinks I’m too drunk to function. I’ll admit drinking Zoey’s cocktail for her might not have been the best idea, but overall, I feel fine. But I can’t tell him that. I’m scared if I did, he’d leave.
And, at the risk of pissing off sober, done-with-boys, Kass…
I don’t want him to.
Knotting my arm around his shoulders, he pushes the front door open and helps me inside the kitchen.
“He was lying, by the way.” He catches me off guard.
I frown.
“She doesn’t look like you.”
I know he’s talking about Lyla.
He shuts the door as quietly as he can. “He just wanted to start shit between us. That’s so Dixon. I guess he thought… we were together or something.”
I wish, Dixon, I wish.
I want to ask him a thousand more questions, discover what Dixon did to make him so angry, who Lyla was to him, but something tells me I’ve gotten all I can out of him tonight.
“Let’s get you into bed.” He eyes me when he thinks I’m not looking, his gaze lingering on my V-neck for a second too long. I flush when he chews on the inside of his cheek, forcing his eyes off me. Does he really think I don’t see that?
That I don’t feel the tension when he looks at me?
Last time I was with this guy, his hand was in my freaking pants. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t repress my fervent need to finish what we started.
Kass, wake up! He literally called you his sister an hour ago.
Remembering what he said makes me angry—furious. With everything going on, I didn’t have nearly enough time to process it, and while I know he was probably just trying to get Alex off his back, I can’t let it slide.
“So, I wanted to ask… do you often make out with your sister?” I ask as he ushers me up the stairs.
He tenses.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
I can’t stop myself.
