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“Why did you kiss me back at that party, Maeve?” I whisper.
She bites her bottom lip, and we’re close enough I can see the enticing pink retreat from the indentations her teeth are making.
Instead of answering, she tosses a question back at me. “Why haven’t you kissed me since?”
I let out a long exhale. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. You know it’s a bad idea. We’re a bad idea. This is risky enough. Getting more involved will—”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Maeve interrupts. She tries to roll away, but I tighten my grip, holding her in place. Irritation flashes across her pretty features. “It would have been nice if you’d thought of that before the cheerleader party, Wes.”
“The cheerleader party?”
“Yes. The party we were at together.”
“That applies to more than one party, Maeve.” She hasn’t tried to pull away again, so I rest my hands on her waist. My thumb grazes the strip of skin between her shorts and sweatshirt. Her eyes flash again, this time with heat, not anger.
“Fine, the one where you kissed me, then. Or are we still pretending that didn’t happen?”
“Do you want to pretend it didn’t happen?” I counter.
“That’s what I’ve spent all summer doing, Wes. You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, I did,” I admit. “Because this feels… this feels like something more than being workout buddies.”
“Because we’re not working out?”
I smirk. “That, and this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Maeve breaks eye contact. “I felt badly. About how we left things.”
“You don’t need to,” I reassure her. “But just to be clear, I’ve never asked you to do anything out of pity. The only reason I texted you that night was because I wanted to hang out with you. You were the only person I wanted to be around, actually.”
“Saying shit like that doesn’t make pretending any easier, Wes.”
“Pretending what?”
“That I don’t want you to kiss me.”
“You want me to kiss you?”
“Wow, you’re terrible at reading body language,” she informs me.
I laugh. “Never been told that one before. My receivers say the opposite.” I shift so our faces are even closer together.
Maeve stiffens. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I was going to act on the verb we’ve been discussing for what feels like the past ten minutes,” I respond. “Is this your idea of foreplay?”
Maeve scoffs. “One, let me remind you again thatyoubrought it up. And two, you literally just said it was a bad idea.”
“I did,” I confirm. “And I was relying on you to be the voice of reason. Which you failed spectacularly at, by the way. Because I spend a lot of time thinking about that bad idea. And badder ideas.”
Maeve smirks. “Badder ideas? I’m not sure your idol, Shakespeare, would approve of that grammar.”
“Maeve, you’re literally lying on top of me right now. I’m not exactly thinking about proper grammar. Plus, the man was an innovator. Haven’t you heard of iambic pentameter?”
“Who’s the nerd now?”
I laugh, but then sober. “Maeve, I need you to tell me if you don’t want this to happen. I’m losing willpower fast here.”
