Page 16 of Spite Crush

“To the game, or here?”

“Oh, I knew you’d be at the game,” he said. He paused, taking a long drink from his bottle. I watched, captivated, as his tongue swiped foam from his upper lip before he continued. “That invitation was carefully crafted.”

“I could tell,” I admitted. “But I don’t know why you wanted me there. Or here, for that matter.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know either?”

“I would, actually.” It was kind of a relief to hear that he had no idea what he was doing either. Something had sparked between us, but it seemed that neither of us were eager to put some kind of label to it.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he said softly. “And I don’t want you there.”

“Not your type?” I guessed, leaving the question vague so he could answer however he wanted.

“Not even a little,” he agreed. My heart dropped at his words, but he wasn’t done yet. “You’re scrawny.You’re wound way too tight. And you’re way, way too fucking famous.”

“Scrawny?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Sorry we can’t all look like steroid-fueled balloon animals.” I took a swig from my own bottle as I contemplated the rest of his character assessment of me. “And you’re famous, too.”

“That’s the problem,” he agreed. “Because I’m not…I don’t.” He huffed out a sigh as he leaned closer to me and dropped his voice. “I’m not out.”

“I’d figured that much out on my own,” I whispered back. “But I don’tsee what that has to do with being friends.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I don’t know what I want,” I told him. Though, that wasn’t entirely true. Because I absolutely knew that I wanted to climb his body like a tree and hold on for dear life for as long as he’d have me. But this conversation was making it clear that that option wasn’t on the table.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, leaning back against the bench again and raking his gaze over me. “And scrawny isn’t so bad.” He narrowedhis eyes. “I notice you didn’t argue the high-strung part.”

“I have crippling ADHD and an anxiety disorder. High-strung barely scratches the surface.” I shrugged. “But despite that I’ve built a hell of life for myself. One I’m not eager to ruin, by the way. So if you’re concerned that I’d risk either of our careers for…anything…let me disabuse you of that notion right now.”

The party was still raging on around us, but no one had dared to come close to us as we sat talking, and I wondered if once again I hadNaomi to thank. Or maybe it was just luck that we were in a room full of other famous people and no one saw much of a novelty in the two of us.

“Did you take your medication tonight?” he asked.

“I did,” I assured him. “That night was kind of a fluke. Sometimes I forget to set my alarm to remind myself to take them. It’s the curse of how my brain works.”

“That sounds difficult.”

“We all have some form of hard.”

“Some more than others,” he teased.

“Was that another crack about me scrawny?” I snapped.

“No.”

Oh.

Oh. That was an innuendo.

“Hey, Kel.” Ford rested a hand on my shoulder as he nodded in greeting to Zak. “We should head back to the Rembrandt.”

“I think I’m going to hang out a while longer. I’ll see you in the morning.” We’d just gotten there.They were crazy if they thought I was going to leave now.

“Are you sure?” Tim asked. “We’ve got a show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to forget about that,” I snapped, glaring at him. “Just go.”

They both turned and strode back through the bar toward the exit. When I turned back to Zak I noticed his gaze was narrowed as he stared at me.

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