Page 22 of Until We Fall

“Alrighty,” the DJ says. He points behind me. “You at least have to pineapple someone before you go.”

“Pineapple someone?”

The girl extends a basket to me, and I grab a paper square out. No clue what it is, but I’m ready to get off this stage. I hand over my bra and hat and then jog back down the stairs. Friendly slaps pepper my shoulders as I make my way back. Theo and Carter are laughing, giving me hugs.

Then Rory’s suddenly next to me. He drags in a sharp breath, his fingers warm on my forearm. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“No, really.” He pushes up to his toes, speaking closer to my ear so I can hear him over the crowd. “I always get called up. I think it’s because of my hair, or my size, and Ihateit. Being up there, in front of everyone.” He shivers, his hand sliding upto my shoulder to balance himself. He’s so close. “No one’s ever done that for me.”

I lean back to catch his eyes. “I always will.”

“You…” He settles back onto his heels, looking up at me. And he’s reallylooking. His eyes move around my face, his lips parting, chest expanding with a breath under his tee. “You always stand up for me.”

People push into us from all sides. Carter’s saying something about the slip ‘n slides, and I’m nodding, but I’m not focusing. I’m just looking back at Rory, the green light from his neon necklace reflected on his chin. His gray eyes shift down to my chest, where I’m pretty sure I’ve got faint impressions from that coconut bra, and then move back up.

His tongue darts across his bottom lip. “What did you get? From the basket?”

“I don’t know.” I pinch the square of paper between my fingers, holding it between us, my yellow neon bracelet slipping down my forearm.

I don’t want to take my eyes off him to look at it, but that’s kinda necessary to answer the question. I study the square of stiff paper. “It’s a temporary tattoo of a pineapple. I’m supposed to put it on someone.”

He wets his lip with a small sweep of his tongue. “Oh.”

Oh.

Wait… is he thinking that…

I breathe in. Out. In.

Butterflies flutter. The crowd moves around us.

Would he want to?—

“You could put it on me?” He blinks up at me, his throat moving with a swallow. “I mean, if you want to. You don’t need to.”

Ohhh fuck, oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I…”Get a grip on your thoughts, D.“I don’t have anything to wet it down with. Other than…” Saliva thickens in my mouth. If I put this tattoo on him, I’m going to have to use my tongue to do it. Which… might be the whole point of pineappling someone. Kinda seems like a spring break activity.

But would he reallywantto? Like he’s looking at me, and he wants this?

His lips part slowly—so sloooowly—his chest rising and falling. “You pick where.”

Is this happening?

But it’s just spring break fun.

Right?

Maybe.

I’m not sure.

Regardless, I’m absolutely going to pick a place.

I scan him, my thoughts going haywire. Fuck, I’ll be touching him.Lickinghim. Smelling him.

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