Page 29 of A Little Tempting

“You’re still cute when you blush,” he notes. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

Curling in on myself, I cradle the coffee to my chest and take a small step back. “I’m not blushing.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Fine,” I snap, desperate to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I guess we can be…friends if it’ll get you off my back.”

“Friends?”

I nod. “Yeah. You asked why I treat Everett differently, and I think it’s because Everett is my friend, so…I guess you can be, too.”

I offer my hand for him to shake as if we’re ironing out a deal like a pair of stiff businessmen. It hangs between us for a solid two seconds before he takes it, surprising me, though I’ll never admit it out loud. When his warmth seeps into my palm, the callouses scratching against my soft skin, I almost melt into a puddle right at his feet.

He shakes it once but doesn’t let me go. The scent of pumpkin spice clings to his breath and tickles my senses as he tugs me closer to him. “Not gonna happen, Dylan.”

With wide eyes, I peek up at him. “What?”

“Not gonna happen. It’s cute how you think I’d say yes to your arrangement, though.”

“So, now you don’t want to be friends?” The back and forth from this conversation is giving me full-on whiplash. “Seriously?”

“I don’t picture my friends naked, Dylan.” His eyes roll over me. “And I don’t want the same arrangement you have with Everett, either. You free Friday?”

I blink slowly, way too caught up on the whole picturing friends naked bit. “F-Friday?”

“For our project.”

“Oh. Right.” I shake my head. “Uh, I don’t know? I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Playing hard to get.” He grins. “I like it.”

I’m not playing hard to get. I can’t think straight when an attractive guy looks at me like this, let alone holds my hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb. The possibility of being able to recall my schedule for the week is laughable at best. Throwing in the possibility of him being my masked Cinderfella? Yeah…it’s messing with my head.

“I see how it is,” he jokes. “All right. Well, use my number this time, will you? So we can set everything up.”

I gulp. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’ll have to track you down again.” With a wink, he lets my hand go and steps back, giving me more space. “And would you look at that? You didn’t even spill your coffee.”

I look down at my cup still clutched to my chest.

“See you soon, Dylan,” he adds.

7

DYLAN

It’s been days, and I still haven’t texted him. I should. I know I should. But I haven’t. Honestly, I’m not sure why. Probably because he said he doesn’t want to be friends, which is pretty much the quickest way to trigger a girl like me. Because if he doesn’t want to be friends, then…what else is there? Okay, I’m not stupid. I know what the other options are, but still.

What if I make a fool out of myself? What if I open up to him, and he takes one look and decides he doesn’t like me anymore? He hasn’t officially said hedoeslike me, but…I don’t know? I still can’t figure out how I managed to not spill my coffee all over him. It’s a modern-day miracle. Knowing he’s interested in more is like hooking up my entire body to a battery and turning it on, leaving me a frazzled mess. Add in the fact he may or may not be Cinderfella, and I’m an awkward wreck.

Sitting in the same seat as last week, I try to look busy while waiting for class to start and cursing myself for not bringing a jacket. It’s legit freezing in this room, and my skin prickles as I shift on the cold plastic seat.

A group of guys are hanging out near the back wall, and one of them laughs. The sound teases my curiosity. It’s almost familiar. Or maybe it isn’t, but my ears perk up nonetheless. Subtly, I steal a glance over my shoulder, taking in the tall one with long, wavy hair and veined forearms. He’s good-looking. A little younger. Maybe he’s a freshman, too? Tilting my head, I attempt to picture half his face covered and focus on his jawline.

Are you my Cinderfella?

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, my face growing hot as I replay the moment for the hundredth time, slipping the guy across the room into the memory to see if he fits.

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