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I nodded as if this made perfect sense, although it was still news to me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Ethan and I never kept secrets from each other, much less one likethat.
“Okay, my turn,” Ethan said, and he pursed his lips, his expression serious, which I found weird because he had acted as though this whole party was lame and now all of a sudden, he was into it?
His gaze locked on Olivia with a devious glint in his eye. I knew he couldn’t stand her, so this would be interesting. “Olivia, truth or dare.”
She looked him dead in the eye, and said, “Dare, of course,” like we were wimps for choosing truth.
“Kiss my brother.”
My jaw dropped. Even a flicker of surprise ran through Olivia’s eyes before she turned her cat-like gaze on Carson with a grin. I watched Carson’s response. It was no surprise he seemed unfazed. He merely smirked and sauntered across the room. Leaning down, he gave Olivia a chaste kiss on the lips, then pulled away.
Everyone around him protested, and like the conductor of an orchestra, Ethan waved his arms beside me, slashing through the air and everyone hushed. “I don’t think so. A real kiss. Kiss her like you mean it. Isn’t that what you supposedly said to Wes and Lauren a few months ago?”
Everyone around him laughed, which didn’t bode well for Carson’s ego. I wondered how he was handling all of this. He was so unused to being the one goaded. Unless it was by me.
Carson drilled a murderous look at Ethan. The little muscle above his jaw flickered. And I had the most thrilling, yet confusing thought. He doesn’t want to kiss her.
A guy not wanting to kiss a Royal replacement was practically unheard of.
His gaze shifted, landing on me for a moment, so quick I barely registered it before he turned back to Olivia again.
Smiling, he knelt down in front of her and placed a finger under her chin. My stomach roiled as he said, “Let’s do this.” Then his lips were on hers, kissing her, slow and soft before Olivia, like the blood-sucking leach she was, gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in even closer.
They were like a pack of wolves then, kissing ferociously—like they needed each other to breathe, to live. One feeding off of the other.
It made me sick to my stomach
Everyone catcalled around them. Some whistled. A boy in the back, said, “Way to go Brooks.”
I couldn’t tell you how the kiss ended. Looking away was about the only thing I could do to keep the fruity drink I consumed from making a reappearance. When they finally pulled away, Carson smiled a lazy, victorious smile and returned to his seat. Only a second later, his eyes found mine, and he winked.
My cheeks caught fire, and I glanced away, hating myself for it. I should’ve held his gaze. Now I probably just looked like a boring prude. Like I couldn’t even handle a little lip-lock without blushing. Or worse yet, like him kissing her bothered me.
Little did he know I was merely trying to suppress my gag reflex at the thought of anyone having to swap spit with him.
When Olivia finally wiped the delirious look from her face, she said, “Carson, truth or dare?”
Carson hesitated, then said, “Truth.”
The look on Olivia’s face told me she was disappointed, but then she brightened, and asked, “Out of everyone in this room, who do you want to make-out with the most?” She smiled like the Cheshire Cat, clearly thinking he’d name her following their little tongue war.
I rolled my eyes. No doubt she’d get what she wanted, and they’d go have some epic battle of tonsil hockey in the back of the room.
Carson rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, as if contemplating something, then said, “Shorty.”
My gaze snapped to his.What?
“Who?” Olivia said.
“Randalls.” He shrugged like it was nothing. Like he didn’t just tell the entire room that he wanted to make-out with his enemy. “I’d kiss Randalls.”
Olivia glanced to me with bloodlust in her eyes. For a moment, I thought I might need a cross and a couple bulbs of garlic to ward her off.
I could hear the surrounding whispers, and I could imagine what everyone was saying.Me and Carson? No way. It was cataclysmic. Apocalyptic.
Across the room, Jeremiah Dermot crowed, “Oh, now we all know why you made Brad Sousa dump her, and there’s all this tension between you too. Why don’t you guys just kiss it out, huh?”
My pulse drummed in my ears, and I had no doubt my face was redder than a tomato. I frowned, ignoring Jeremiah’s prattling because it made zero sense. Brad Sousa? He broke up with me freshman year.
