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My lips part, although I remain silent.
He studies me for a while, lightly stroking the contours of my face with the pad of his thumb. “Now she’s quiet,” he observes, smirking. “I remember when I could hardly get you to shut the fuck up.”
“I didn’t know you were a liar then,” I quip, only to instantly regret it. “I didn’t mean that—”
“You did,” he counters, but his eyes gleam in a way that makes my chest tighten. A matching smile shapes his lips, and I’m dizzy at the sight. “That’s what I like about you, Frey. You’re honest as shit. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”
“Butyouaren’t being honest,” I say, feeling bold enough. “Who am I looking for exactly? You keep dancing around the topic. Is that all I can expect from you? Mind games and lies?”
He doesn’t take offense. If anything, he seems amused by the banter. Like he’s not used to fighting with words—just his fists.
“That’s not all you can expect,” he says.
Before I realize it, we’re closer. My eyes bore into his, and he openly stares back, his head cocked in concentration. All hints of his smirk immediately fade until his mouth is pressed in a firm, straight line. Maintaining eye contact, he inches even closer.
“What you’re about to witness isn’t going to be pretty,” he warns, tracing my lips with his thumb, although I’m too busy trying to silence my thoughts totrulyhear him. “Are you still with me, Frey?” he asks, tapping my temple. “Get out of that head, will you?”
He makes it sound so easy, though… Around him, it is. I can step outside of myself, if only for a second, and let him fill the empty space grief has left behind. I’m not oblivious to how pathetic that sounds. I think it’s why I crave the distraction he provides even more. Enough that I’m here, on the verge of something he seems wary of. Beside him, though, I’m not afraid.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m here.”
“Good,” he sighs, his jaw clenched tight. “Because I need to make sure you understand why we’re here.”
“Why are we here?”
“You need to keep your eyes open,” he instructs. “Don’t get lost in the fight like everyone else. You’re not here for that. You’ve gotta dig deeper.”
I blink up at him, confused. “I don’t understand,” I mutter.
“Be aware of your surroundings, Frey. Remember, it’s not about the fight itself,” he clarifies, lifting my chin to get a better look in my eyes, demanding my complete and utter attention. “It’s aboutwho’swatching. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Good.” He releases a small, shallow breath. “You know… In the glory days, a man’s old lady would give him a kiss for luck,” he taunts, his smirk on display. “I don’t think they teach that in your church, though—”
I think I step into him partly to prove him wrong. Partly out of sheer curiosity. Regardless of the reason, my lips are suddenly on his. From the stillness of his body, it’s evident he’s just as surprised as I am.
Though my moment of bravery lasts all of five seconds. He’s right. I didn’t learn that in church. I learned this method of worship only from him. It’s spontaneous loyalty. Reckless devotion. It’s feeling so vulnerable you can’t stand it, and all you can do is try to detract from it.
But he won’t let me escape so easily. His eyes darken, lips still pursed.
“I—I’m sorry,” I unthinkingly blurt out. “I—”
He moves before I can react, hooking his arm around my waist to bring me against his masculine frame, silencing me with his mouth. Clumsily, my arms find their way around his neck as he lifts me effortlessly from the floor. My heart pumps hard—persistently racing.
I can only hold on for the ride as Daze walks us across the room, pinning my backside to the cold frame of the lockers with acrash. Our kiss deepens. It’s sloppy, almost a game of wits. Who will back down first? Caught up in a heated moment, neither of us can seem to surrender. Confusion strikes me—however, I push it away.
Nothing else matters.
Not even modesty. To deepen my leverage, I wrap my thighs around his hips, and he slips his fingers beneath my dress, cupping my ass with his hands. My belly dips. Has he already won this round? To my credit, I don’t withdraw. He does.
“Don’t leave, Frey,” he breathes against my mouth, tracing the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue. “Not until it’s over. I need your word on that. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper. It sounds more like a question than a statement.
Unexpectedly, the door crashes open, and someone barrels inside amid a raucous commotion.
“Fuck off,” Daze calls out angrily.
