Page 25 of Riley

Kiss him.

CHAPTER 11

Riley

I couldn’t rememberthe last time I had so muchfun.Not only that, but I couldn’t remember the last time I won anything on my own. I’d won several games of Pac Man, and defeated Eric at air hockey, which I had to admit was one hell of a game, but as I looked down at Eric, his hand settled on my hip, eyes ablaze, I felt like I was winning at far more than games.

And thanks to the drinks, I felt like for the first time, maybe I had somethingfunof my own to offer.

Eric seemed to bring out a part of me I didn’t know existed, and I wanted more of that.

I wanted more ofhim.

Overwhelmed by his sparkling gaze, I knew all it would take, was one swift move and I could have him. He was so close.

My gaze dipped to his perfect mouth, the one that sounded so good talking shit, that was parted just the slightest.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact Eric looked hot as hell amid the neon glow of Wizard’s.

Or maybe it was that I had lost my marbles completely.

I leaned in just a fraction, but our lips would never touch.

Because mere seconds later, someone was calling my name.

“Mr. Evans?”

Instantly, the spell was broken, and I dropped my hand, moving away from Eric, scanning the room to see who was calling my name, and where they were.

When my gaze finally settled on the culprit, my eyes widened.

Trent Klaypas, one of my students from Senior Painting, waved at me.

A quick glance at my watch told me it was only ten-thirty, which immediately set off my teacher brain.

What was he doing out so late on a school night?

Come to think of it, maybe we should get going.

“Hey...” I said nervously, feeling myself start to sweat.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, tugging on his backpack.

“I could ask you the same question, young man,” I said, with a forced grin.

Trent laughed as he nodded to the bar. “I work in the kitchen. Dishwasher. Just on my way home,” he said, looking back and forth between Eric and I.

“Oh, where are my manners?” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“Eric, this is Trent, one of my students. Senior Painting.”

I watched as Eric’s jaw tensed, his entire body stiffening. He held his hand out, and Trent took it. He appraised Eric like a specimen.

Did they know one another?

“Nice to meet you,” Eric said politely, flashing a grin that was rather fake, but charming nonetheless.

“Yeah,pleasure’sall mine,” Trent said with a wink, and I watched as they dropped hands, and Eric shoved his in his pockets.

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