Page 71 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

The inside of the establishment was surprisingly cheerful. A direct contrast to the atmosphere of the street it took residence on. The walls were a jaunty yellow, faded with age. Red vinyl squeaked as I slid into a booth at the back with Prudence across from me. From our seat we could see into the kitchen, and the signs that pointed toward a locked bathroom on the other side of the room.

I stared at his shoulder, tracing over the contour of it with my eyes as I bit my lip and fiddled with the worn edge of the table top. When the waiter came over and handed us the worn laminated menus it only took me five seconds to decide what I wanted. A burger and fries. My stomach growled and my mouth watered just thinking about it.

“Pru,” I nudged him with my foot, and he glared at me. It was the first time I’d met his gaze since I’d admitted all that shit in the car. My skin felt a size too small. “Order something.”

“I don’t need to—”

“C’mon. My treat.” Sure, I was poor as hell. But I couldn’t deprive him of one of the only pleasures I knew he still had. He didn’t fight me, to my surprise. He just ordered the same thing I did, then leaned back, his biceps bulging as he crossed his arms and stared me down.

I squirmed under his gaze, chewing on my lip and chasing headlights through the window rather than look at him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Prudence’s voice was quiet, deliberately brash.

“Wrong with me?” I played dumb, hoping he’d drop the subject.

“You won’t look at me,” he accused, and I grimaced. Shit. He’d noticed. I guess it was hard to miss, considering how much I usually drooled over him. My cheeks got hot as I fidgeted uncomfortably beneath his attention.

The waiter offered us a wane smile as he placed a twin set of water dappled glasses in front of us. He looked high. Tired too. And his uniform smelled as much like weed as it did like fries. I smiled back, ignoring the hole Pru was glaring into the side of my head. The waiter disappeared, then returned, setting our plates onto the table with a quiet thud-thud. The sweet aroma of grease and salt wafted up from them making my tastebuds tingle.

Pru—the fucker—could wait, goddammit. Hopefully the interruption would distract him.

But, nope. No such luck.

Yay.

Prudence kept staring at me. I could feel the weight of his gaze like a brand on my skin. It made a shiver tremble its way up my limbs as I folded my arms over my chest and mirrored his guarded posture. Without preamble, he reached across the table and stole my motherfucking plate like a thieving little thief.

Fine.

So he wanted to play dirty, huh?

“I talked a lot in the car. You sure you want to hear more?” Please say no, please say no. I was too emotionally raw for this right now.

“Yes.” Prudence sounded confused for possibly the first time since I’d met him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

I huffed, digging my nails into my biceps hard enough pain zinged from my fingertips. “I just…” Fuck. What the hell did he want from me? The truth. He wanted the truth. Fine. If he wanted it so bad, he could have it. “I’ve never told anyone any of the shit I told you. It’s embarrassing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Prudence stole one of my fries from the pilfered plate he held hostage. He shoved it into his mouth, his tongue flickering out to swipe the salt from his petal-pink lower lip. Shit. His tongue was pierced. How the fuck had I never noticed his tongue was pierced?

“Aren’t you annoyed by me?” He was confusing. I squinted at him distrustfully, looking for signs of deceit. But…I saw none. Prudence was an asshole, but he was honest. His pale eyes narrowed right back at me, dark lashes smudging across his cheeks as he blinked. He practically looked like he was wearing eyeliner—and shit. If I kept thinking about Prudence in eyeliner I was going to get a boner regardless of how awkward I felt right now.

“Why? Because you answered the questions I asked you?” he clarified.

“When you put it like that it seems stupid.”

“Because it is.”

“Okay, rude.”

“Maybe, it’s stupid to worry so much about what anyone else thinks of you, me included. I’d be an asshole if I was annoyed you answered the questions I fucking asked.”

“I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk. Also, for the record? You are an asshole. You’re literally calling me stupid right now.” For some reason the churning in my gut was going away. Damn. Why were his insults comforting? Maybe I was even more fucked up than I thought I was.

“I’m just pointing out your inconsistency.”

“Okay…?” What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Are you annoyed that I answered your questions?”

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