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"They're there for a reason."
He chuckles. "All right. We'll be friends. No kissing. No thinking about kissing. Nothing. Do we have a deal?" He holds out his hand for me to shake.
I throw him an incredulous look. "Do you really want to shake on this?"
"Well we can't seal the deal with a kiss," he quips.
I shake my head in bemusement. "Fine."
I take his hand in mine and give it a firm shake. He tightens his grip ever so slightly and looks me dead in the eyes.
"The rules go for you too," he reminds me. "No thinking about kissing me."
The moment his words register, my gaze flicks down to his lips and the echo of the way they felt against mine tingles through me.
I swallow hard. "Deal."
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Krissi." He lets go of my hand.
"Likewise," I mumble.
The lecturer finally calls for everyone's attention, which is a good thing given the racing thoughts in my head.
I lean back in my seat.
Why can't I shake the feeling that I've made a terrible mistake?
13
Krissi
Every partof my body aches from the almost constant practice Zara has been encouraging us to do. I roll my head around, cracking my neck in the process.
It doesn't relieve the tension building within me. A hot shower and a good night's sleep will probably do the trick.
I can probably add a shift into the mix. My room isn't big enough for me to do much, but I don't think I have the energy for more than a quick shift and a collapse.
I slide my key into the flat lock and open it up for myself, stepping inside. My stomach rumbles as the smell of something tasty comes from the kitchen. I better go make myself some food before I go collapse, or I'm going to wake up starving and grumpy because of it. Most people don't believe I'm capable of being that way, but that's because I'm careful not to let myself go too long without a meal in the first place.
I push open the kitchen door and dump my gym bag on the bench.
Bernie turns around to see who has come in, and her eyebrows raise as she catches sight of me still wearing my white and blue cheerleading outfit. "Isn't it a little late to be getting in from practice?"
I sigh. "Don't get me started. I've cheered for as long as I can remember, and I don't think I've ever had a coach or captain push me as hard as Zara is. Now I'm tired and hungry."
"I'm not surprised. Do you want some of this?" she asks, gesturing towards the pan. "It's nothing fancy, just some tomato pasta."
"If you don't mind, it smells really good."
"Sure, I'll take some out before I put the blood in," Bernie responds.
I don't do very well at covering my shock. "You put your blood in pasta?"
She lets out a loud sigh. "Not by choice. I'd rather not put it in anything." She pulls out a second bowl and scoops some of the pasta into it before holding it out to me. "Here you go."
"Thanks, Bernie. You don't know how much I appreciate this."
"It's no bother. You can make me a meal sometime if you want to."
