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“Don’t,” I repeated.
Axel ignored me. Because of course he did. “And you’re protective of her, and she pushes your buttons. Plus, she has a great ass and—”
I dropped my plate onto the bleacher, shoved his shoulder. “Cut it out, fuckhead.”
“—and,” he said, going on like I hadn’t even spoken, “there are sparks for days, man.” A beat. “So much so that you can’t keep your eyes off her, even when she’s sleeping.”
Fuck.
Iwaswatching her again, staring at her, holding my breath through every twitch, every rise of her chest. I tore my eyes away from the cots in the corner of the room—and it was harder than I wanted it to be, though Ididmanage—and glared at my friend.
Formerfriend.
Who just grinned at my glare and shoved the rest of his muffin into his mouth.
“Just saying.”
The idiot sprayed crumbs all over me.
Not to mention it sounded like jush shayling.
I repeat.Idiot.
Unfortunately, I was starting to think that the idiot was right.
Maybe that was why when, after we ate our muffins, after Bailey and Axel went over to talk to one of Bailey’s friends, Desiree, I found myself winding my way through the cots.
To Billie Rose’s cot.
I sank onto the bed next to her, played creepy fucker and watched her sleep, watched her breathe slow and steady, all the while hoping that the rest would erase some of the lines on her face, disperse the fatigue and sadness in her eyes.
And calling myself an idiot for staying next to her, staring at her, risking waking her up.
Risking having to talk to her.
The woman who I hated and was starting to like…in equal measure.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
But I didn’t move.
Instead, I stayed there, playing creeper, and eventually giving into the fatigue.
Lying down on that adjacent cot and watching her.
Until sleep claimedme.
Eight
Billie Rose
One second, I was out.
The next, I was awake and alert.
Like always.
And even without opening my eyes, I instantly knew where I was.
