Page 66 of A Little Tempting

“You’re welcome. How’d you like the peanut butter?”

“It was good. Different,” I clarify. “But I liked it.”

“Sometimes different is good.”

“Mm-hmm.” I walk out the door and down the stairs to the first floor. He follows me, walking by my side like we’re friends. It’s…off-putting but kind of nice. Still leaves me on pins and needles, though.

“So, do you buy all of your class partners coffee?” I ask when the silence grows too thick.

“Only the ones I dream about at night.”

His smirk tugs at my chest, and I turn away, unsure what to do about it. About him. The guy’s so…unperturbed. About anything and everything. And honestly? I guess I’m jealous. That he can be so carefree. So open, yet still respectful. About my boundaries. My surliness. Because let’s be honest. I’ve been far from accommodating, yet here he is. Bringing me coffee.

“How’d you know I’m not allergic to peanut butter?” I ask.

“I texted Finley.”

My brows hitch. “You texted Finley?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“W-why?”

“Are you kidding me? I need an ally. I would text Ophelia, but she’s so distracted with everything, I figured having one closer to home was probably smart.”

“You need an ally?”

The same smirk toys with his lips. “When I have a stranger in a mask and a childhood friend you’ve known your entire life as my competition, then, yeah. Collecting as many allies as I can is a good idea.”

Nearly stumbling on the stairs at the mention of, well, everything he said, I grab the railing to keep my balance as he wraps his arm around my waist. “Whoa. You okay?”

I nod. “Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat and slip out of his hold. “You don’t think Everett’s Cinderfella?”

With a scoff, he shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Why not?”

“You said your Cinderfella was a good kisser, remember?” He winks. “But, hey. Think what you want. At least I’m willing to show my face. I have that much going for me, right?”

He’s right. His pretty face has a lot going for him. I stop myself from checking him out, dropping my empty coffee cup into the trash can as we exit the building. “Is there a reason you wouldn’t want to show your face?”

“Other than the unrealistic expectations you set for the poor bastard?” He tosses his arm around my shoulder. “With me, you know exactly what you’re getting. Flaws and all.”

Peeking up at him, I ask, “And what would I be getting with you?”

“You know, I asked myself the same question,” he admits. “At the very least, an experience. And you, my dear Dylan, don’t seem like someone who’s had many of those.”

He’s right. I haven’t. The question is, are we talking about experiences in general or dating or…the more intimate side of things? My heart picks up its pace, and my palms go sweaty at the idea alone, so I grip the strap of my backpack on my shoulder.

“Have you been to SeaBird yet?” he asks.

I shake my head, grateful for the subject change. “Uh, you’re talking about the bar by campus, right?”

He nods.

“Nope, I haven’t.”

“Well, do you want to?” he prods.

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