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I looked at him in confusion. "Go?" I repeated stupidly. "Where do you want me to go?"
He took hold of my hand and slipped his fingers through mine, lacing them together.
I wasn't fooled by the sudden change in direction. Ty wouldn't let it go this easily, and wherever it was he wanted me to go with him, I knew we'd be playing a round of twenty questions until he got what he thought he wanted from me.
Poor Tyson Alexander. The job of being my best friend was oftentimes a serious pain in the ass. And it wasn't a job you could just scrape off whenever you'd had your fill. He was in for a life sentence with me and only death would free him.
"Do you trust me, Ariel?" he asked, as he tugged on my hand, pulling me forward. I fell into his hard body and my free hand automatically came out to take the sting out of my landing. My palm met with the soft fabric of his t-shirt and his hard abdominals underneath. My front connected with his side and he held our connected hands out behind him. His free hand came up to my face and he ran the backs of his knuckles along my cheekbone. On the non-scarred side because he was a good boyfriend like that.
"Ariel?" he prompted, and I startled, giving myself a little shake.
Shit.
That was right, he'd asked me an important question I should be mad about because he thought he even had to ask in the first place.
"Of course I trust you," I immediately shared. Without an attitude, I might add. It was a good thing the question wasn't the other way around, because I didn't think I was the most trustworthy girlfriend at the moment. With good reason, but still.
"Girl," he said in a low voice. He gave our joined hands a rough little shake. "I like your answer, but I really don't like that look in your eyes right now. Normally you look sad even when I know you're happy. But right now? Fuck."
He shook his head and his hand dropped away from my face. "Grab some shoes and we'll get out of here. And a jacket. It might get dark out before we get back, and you're gonna want it for the ride back. Don't want you getting cold or sick."
I stared at him in confusion, not understanding why I'd need a jacket for a ride in his Audi when he could just turn the heat on to take away the chill. Then I decidedwhatever, it wasn't worth the space it was taking up in my head to think about.
Taking my hand away from his hard stomach as I took a step back and away from him proved to be more difficult than I'd ever admit aloud. He let my hand go, but only after tugging on it one more time and pulling me back into him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a tender, sweet kiss. It changed the moment my lips parted so I could nip at his bottom lip playfully. He groaned, the noise obscenely loud, and a total turn on that sent a delicious little shiver through me and made my nipples hard.
He dropped my hand and raised both of his to my neck. His hands went back and tangled in my hair as he deepened the kiss and his tongue slid inside. He kissed me like it was his favorite pastime and he could spend the rest of his life doing it and be a happy man.
Good grief, but I really needed to stop making out with Alexander men inside my closet. It was getting to be just a tad ridiculous and probably something they both deserved to know about, but I'd never actually tell either of them.
Boy, I really did keep a lot of things to myself. Quinton would be pissed if he knew just how much.
On that not so happy thought, I turned my head to the side, breaking the kiss. I had no business kissing him while thinking about his crazy uncle.
"Boots," I muttered, and was happy to see the blindingly white, incredibly beautiful, so beautiful it made me blink up at him momentarily stunned, smile he aimed down at me.
"And a jacket," he reminded me.
I guessed it was a good thing we were standing in my closet where I kept those things.
I found a pair of fabulous black combat boots that had become a favorite of mine. I sank down on my butt right there in my closet and slipped the boots onto my feet that were already encased in a pair of fuzzy socks that were an incredibly lovely shade of pink that I would rather swallow my own tongue than admit to enjoying as much as I did. I laced my boots up and tied em tight.
I stood and walked to where my hoodie collection hung on hangers in front of Rain's bloody mirror. Quinton must have hung all of my clothes back up for me after I'd passed out, something I hadn't thought about until then. I had been in here every day since then, several times each day, and I hadn't even thought about it. I needed to thank him for picking up after me. He wasn't Dash, so I'm sure he didn't get off on it, and it wasn't like if he'd left it there I wouldn't have put everything back to rights myself.
I slid the hangers around, not stopping until I came across one that struck my fancy. It was a men's black pullover that was a size too big for me and incredibly soft on the inside. On the front, over the breast, the cracked image of a proud, white wolf stood with its head tipped up, howling away at an invisible moon.
It was something Damien would have curled his lip and sneered at because it wasn't brand spanking new and hadn't come with a designer label attached. I had found it at a thrift store Simon and Trenton loved snooping through now that they had money of their own to spend. I figured the image of the wolf was cracked because it had been worn and washed so many times. I didn't care, I loved it.
I put it on, looked down at myself, and grinned. Black skinny jeans that had a hole in one knee that had been there when Damien bought them. Unlike the hoodie the jeansweredesigner and, going by the tag I’d removed when I put them on today, they costed a scary amount more than my hoodie had. The jeans looked good with my boots, and thankfully there was no pretty pink in sight. My blood red belt with a square, boxy, black buckle with a white skull and crossbones in the center of it finished off my outfit. I looked edgy, like a very witchy rebel who didn’t give a fuck, and I liked it because it suited me very much.
I avoided looking in any of the mirrors in the closet on my way out. I didn't want to see the scar on my face or my hair that I'd simply left hanging down to air dry, and it had, but it was wavy and I knew from experience would look just a wee bit on the wild side.
Yeah, I could do without seeing all of that.
Tyson rummaged around on Dash's side of the closet, and I caught him plucking a black hoodie much bigger than my own off a hanger. He put it on and left the empty hanger on the rack where he found it.
I picked up my bag on the way out, slung it over my head, and stuck my arm through the strap. The wide, black strap crossed my body and the bag rested at my hip. It was black and covered in silver studs. I knew my phone, wallet, and keys were already inside, so I was good to go.
I followed Tyson out of Dash’s and my little home inside of a home.
