Page 53 of Always You

I slap his arm. “Stop flirting with me, jackass.”

“Fine,” he growls, a chuckle seeping through the deepness of his voice.

When we arrive at the cafeteria, he buys us both some ice cream, even though it’s only noon, and we take a seat at one of the tables near the window.

Leaning back against the chair, slightly slouching, I watch Hunter’s tongue move out of his mouth over and over again to lick the chocolate off his Magnum. A wave of heat makes me blush, while a tingling feeling forms between my legs, my mind wandering to a place it shouldn’t go.

Would his tongue feel as good as I imagine it would on my body? Would it feel scorching on my neck? Would it be earth shattering to have him wrap his full lips over my center?

I keep my eyes fixated, unable to look away, slowly taking bites of my orange popsicle. He’s looking out of the window, unaware of my mild form of voyeurism, while his tongue keeps twirling around the chocolate. Long intended strokes, switching between just the tip of his tongue to dragging the whole thing over the surface. I swallow hard, parting my lips, and accidentally let out a ragged moan when he sinks his teeth into the chocolate, taking a bite from the top. The sound snaps his headto mine, and his eyebrows move up when he notices the flushed look on my face.

“You okay there?”

Not-fucking-at-all.

“Hmm,” I muse, putting my focus back on my popsicle, releasing a groan when I stick my teeth in the cold surface to literally cool myself down.

“You sure?” There’s a hunger in his eyes that I know matches mine, and a smirk on his lips that tells me he knows exactly where my dirty head is.God, I’m so busted.His tongue darts out as he slowly licks his lips and shoots me a wink. And I automatically reply by rolling my eyes to the back of my head.

Asshole.

“Perfect.”

“Okay.” His shoulder jerks up, his eyes still filled with an amused glare, and I avert my gaze, lowering to his damaged knuckles.

“Will you ever stop fighting?”

“Why? Scared I’ll get hurt?”

“Only your bloated ego.” I stick out my tongue.

He sighs, dropping his focus to the table before it snaps back up to me. “Only if I have a good reason to quit.”

“Like what?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “Like finding something that’s more important.”

My heart cracks. I hope he finds it. I hope one day, he’ll find something he loves to do that doesn’t involve him getting hurt all the time.

“What happened with Demi last night?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

He lets out a chuckle while shaking his head. “Not much. She saw me talking to Kayla and apparently wanted my undivided attention. Got pissed, threw a fit, and went home.” The wordsroll off his tongue, as if it was nothing, when really, it was a full on theater show. Very entertaining as well, if I have to believe Julie.

“You know what I don’t get?” I lean my elbows on the table, and he nudges his chin in question. “It’s common knowledge in this town that you sleep around, trading girls like they’re baseball cards, yet they still want your attention. How?” I point my popsicle at him, shooting him an incredulous look. I don’t miss the sharp edge of my tone, and I inwardly curse myself for letting my jealousy creep through.

But regardless, it’s true. I can’t even keep up with the number of girls he allegedly sleeps with, yet it doesn’t seem to stop any of them from throwing themselves at him whenever they get the chance. I get bored hearing about whatever chick is desperate for his attention this week, yet they keep swarming him like bees to honey.

It makes no sense.

“I don’t trade you like a baseball card.”

I blink at his answer, not sure what to make of that. “I’m different.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a sigh before the corner of his mouth curls in a sweet smile, a hint of pain ghosting his hazel eyes. “You are.”

“But we’re not talking about me. We arefriends.” An invisible chord forms between us, made out of paper-thin steel. Solid, strong, but still able to snap within the blink of a second. I silently dare him to argue with me. To question our friendship.

“Right.”But he never does.Instead, he mimics my stance, dropping the intensity that grows between us while he leans his elbows on the surface.

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