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“Don’t finish that sentence. Not in public.” She sighs. “I like you, too, but for so many reasons this can’t work.”
“Name one.”
“For starters, my dad will murder you if he finds out.”
“What does it matter if you’re with me or some other guy on campus?”
She turns away from me, and I slide my hand under her chin to guide her eyes back to mine.
“You’re making a scene,” she says. “Everyone will know there’s something going on between us.”
“Maybe I want them to know.” I drop my hand to my side when she shakes me off. “If you were my girl, I would never hide you. I’d want everyone to know you are with me.”
“But I can’t be your girl, Preston. You know how this will end. Even if we see each other until the end of the school year, that’s where it will end. You’ll get drafted into the NHL and leave me behind. It happens all the time. I don’t want to be another statistic.”
“You never told me why your dad has these rules to begin with, and why you go along with them?”
She grinds her teeth. “I’m not ready to have that conversation.”
“I want to know you, Bex, but you’re not making it easy for me.”
“Everything comes easy to you,” she counters, and then her tone changes. “We can be friends like we talked about before. Let’s see how that goes.”
“Friends hang out together,” I remind her. “They don’t ignore each other’s texts and calls and run away from them on campus.”
She laughs, most likely getting a kick out of what she’s been doing all week to avoid me. “I’m well aware.”
“Come to this party with me on Saturday.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “Where?”
“The Delta Sig house.”
Her eyebrows lift. “A frat party? That’s not really my scene.”
“Humor me.”
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “Okay. Fine. Can I bring Taylor with me since this isn’t a date?”
“Sure, invite whoever you want since it’s a non-date.” I laugh. “It sounds so fucking stupid saying that out loud.”
She smiles. “You looked adorable saying it.”
“Men are not adorable. That’s something you say about an animal.”
“But you are…” she coos, “… adorable.”
“I don’t think friends are supposed to say things like this,” I challenge.
“I suppose you’re right.”
I dip down to whisper in her ear, “I guess I shouldn’t tell you how all I can think about is your tight, wet pussy. Or how hot you sound when you moan my name.”
She clears her throat. “Um… probably not.”
“Say it. Please.”
“What?”
