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With a roll of her eyes, she sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s the problem.”
“No, seriously,” I urged. “I know you go to great lengths to make sure everything on you is perfectly in place and flawless every day. To you, nothing would be worse than being criticized for your appearance. But I think all that perfection actually brings you more judgment.”
She pulled back, lifting her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“You’re almost inhuman because of how gorgeous you are,” I explained. “That’ll make all the mortal, average women out there jealous and more critical. They’ll watch you closer, look for any small, insignificant thing wrong with you to prove you’re not so perfect after all just to make themselves feel better.”
“Is that how you think I feel?” she demanded. “That how a person looks is what’s most important to me?”
“No…” I said slowly, knowing I’d just put myself on some slippery ground here, but I couldn’t seem to shut myself up. “I don’t think you judge other people for how they look. And I don’t think you’re trying to make yourself out to look better than anyone else either. You’re not that arrogant. You’re…fuck, what’s the word.” I snapped my fingers when it came to me. “You’re defensive. I think your motto is that the best defense is a good offense.”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m not following.”
“You don’t judge, but you feel as if you’re always being judged, so you go on the offensive before anyone can attack you. Every time you dress, you make a statement. You’re trying to prove to the world that you are not lower than anyone else. You’re not going to go down without a fight.” I shrugged. “Which I find really admirable and awesome, though sometimes it works against you.”
“How does that work against me?” She leaned toward me, seeming intrigued, but not pissed, which was a huge relief to me, since pissing her off was the very last thing I wanted to do.
“To stupid, simple-minded people just glancing by, all that pride in yourself sometimes makes you appear…” I winced, knowing the next word I said wouldn’t be pretty.
She sent me a dry glance. “Just say it.”
So I blurted, “Stuck-up.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh really? Stuck-up, huh?” She shook her head, grinning as if amused. “But you say you know better than that, huh?”
“Of course, I know better.” I winked and whispered, “I’ve seen your underwear, remember?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “My underwear? How the hell does my underwear have anything to do with anything?”
“They’re my favorite thing you wear,” I swore solemnly.
Shaking her head, she continued to chuckle. “How? They’re boring as hell.”
“No,” I insisted. “They’re honest as hell. They’re one of the only things you put on your body that no one else sees. So they tell me exactly how you’d dress if it didn’t matter to you what anyone thought about you. They tell me you value comfort and practicality while you also like flashy colors over dull boring ones. And you keep all this tucked privately away where very few privileged people get a glimpse of them.”
Her lips parted as she studied my face. After a second of just soaking in my words, she murmured, “It’s scary how fucking perceptive you are.”
With a chuckle, I reached out to trace my finger over her cheekbone. “And yet I think you like it.”
“Yeah, well…” She grinned and rolled her eyes, appearing rueful. “Except for the fact that now I sound boring, since I represent my plain, practical underwear, yeah, your talent of reading me’s not so bad.”
“Practical but colorful,” I reminded her as I leaned across the table toward her. “Truth be told, I like it. I like you just the way you are.”
When I pressed my mouth to hers, she pressed back, humming in her throat and coasting her fingers over my hair. “I like you too,” she admitted.
“Good.” I kissed her again.
Not far away, the sound of laughter made me pull back and glance over at the girls who’d been bothering her before. They were watching us openly and whispering back and forth.
Obviously, our kiss had sent them over the edge.
I scowled. “Huh. Maybe the interracial thing does bother them.” I rolled out my middle finger and flipped the girls off.
“Colton!” Julianna grabbed my finger and covered it with her hand, while the other table gasped and quickly looked away.
“What?” I shook my head, confused. I’d gotten them to mind their own damn business, hadn’t I?
Juli gritted her teeth. “You’re the one who told me to forget what other people thought of us.”
