Page 60 of Pieces

Another girl chimes in, laughing as she brushes her hair over her shoulder. “I swear, you were unstoppable out there. Seriously, do you ever take a break from being amazing?”

I chuckle awkwardly and glance at Daphne. “I think you might be exaggerating a little.” Keeping my tone light, I’m hopeful they can read how uninterested I am.

One of the girls leans in a little too close as she laughs. “You’re so funny,” she says, though I can’t remember actually saying anything particularly funny. Stepping back, I turn just enough to angle toward Daphne.

“So, uh, you ready to grab those drinks?” I ask her directly, ignoring the girls still standing there.

Daphne raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained, and moves toward the kitchen. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to interrupt all…this,” she says, gesturing vaguely.

“You’re not.” I give the girls a polite smile before walking away with Daphne. The group murmurs something behind us, but I don’t bother listening.

As we head toward the drinks, Daphne finally lets out a quiet laugh. “Wow, you really are a magnet, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” I reply. “They’re just…friendly.”

“Friendly,” she echoes. “Sure.”

We grab our drinks, soda for me, but I notice she just gets water. “You don’t like soda?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I don’t like the bubbles.”

I file that away as we head back to the living area. There’re tons of people around us, but she’s quiet, her gaze flicking over to me, as if she’s thinking something through. I’ve never been good at reading people and guessing what they’re thinking, but trying to figure out what women, in particular, are thinking feels like a totally different language.

“You okay over there?”

She nods, but it’s entirely unconvincing.

“Once more with feeling?” I smile, nudging her.

She fully turns to face me, a set in her shoulders and her lips in a line that tells me she’s annoyed, maybe? I’m trying so hard to learn her here.

Her suddenly fired-up eyes flick to the cap on my head, and her nostrils flare. Okay, this is her annoyed, for sure. Note to self: she’s quiet when she’s annoyed about something. “You know why all the girls throw themselves at you, right? It’s because you’re wearing a backwards hat”

I almost spit out my drink. “What?”

She nods, resolute in her words. Is she really annoyed over the cap? Or is this like a baby hormone thing? I don’t dare ask. “Yeah, it’s literal kryptonite for girls. That’s probably why they’re throwing themselves at you. That and your pretty face.”

Then it all clicks. I smirk, leaning closer, looking at the way those dark lashes fan out so perfectly, highlighting her eyes as I run my hand over my covered head. I think Daphne might be jealous…and I like that way more than I thought I would. “Does the hat haveyoufeeling some kinda way, Daph?”

“Please.” With a scoff, she beings inspecting her nails, not meeting my eyes.

“Or is it that you’re wanting my attention instead of other girls having it?”

Her cheeks darken, and she lifts her chin defiantly, never breaking our connection. I decide right here and now that she’s kidding herself about us being friends. If she’s this riled up over a little conversation with other girls, I know she’s feeling something for me. “I’m just saying, if you want less attention, lose the hat. It probably won’t help, but it might.”

Grinning wider, I can see she’s trying to brush me off, to ignore the rising heat between us, but there’s no way I’m letting her get away that easily. I step closer, setting my cup down on the side without breaking eye contact. Slowly and intentionally, I watch her lips part before I reach up and pull the hat off my head, giving it a playful twirl between my fingers before gently placing it on hers.

The moment it settles, she freezes. Her breath hitches, her hand instinctively rising to adjust it, but she doesn’t pull it off.

Damn, she looks cute. No—scratch that. She looks downright edible.

Her wide baby blue eyes meet mine, and for a second, it’s like the air between us disappears. I lean in just enough for my voice to be low, meant only for her, my lips brushing her ear. “Now, I’m no cowboy,” I murmur, “but I know the rules. Wear the hat, ride the football player.”

A quiet, almost inaudible gasp escapes her parted lips as her cheeks flush the prettiest shade of pink again. I pull back slightly and don’t miss the way her gaze flicks to my mouth, hesitation and desire warring in her expression.

“That’s not how that goes,” she finally manages, her voice barely above a whisper, but the way her fingers brush the brim of the hat tells me she’s not so sure.

“I think it should be,” I reply, placing my finger under her chin to tilt her head higher to me. “I like you in my clothes…but I remember very clearly how much I liked you naked, too.” Her breath hitches, and I swear my dick jumps at the sound.

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