Page 9 of Revive

“Oh.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“The attention is nice, but it would be better from the right girl. Bethany’s more Jagger’s type.”

Stopping outside my class, I let my backpack fall to the floor and lean my back on the rendered brick wall. He stands beside me, his shoulder brushing up against mine. My stomach flutters at his closeness. “I thought a girl that looked like her was everyone’s type.”

He turns his head toward me, his golden brown eyes holding my attention. “Not mine.” His voice is steady and certain. His admission should mean nothing to me, and if he was anyone else I would read between the lines and take this moment as a hint; surrender to the attraction and tell the boy I’m in love with the truth.

I purse my lips together to stop the questions.Who is your type? What is she like? Could it be me?Instead, I spin the conversation as far away from me as possible. “I don’t think it matters who your type is, Bethany plans on wearing you down.”

“I’ll just tell her I’m interested in somebody else.”

“Are you?” I blurt out.

The side of his mouth rises in a slight smirk. “Maybe.”

My gaze bounces between his mouth and eyes, and it takes all my restraint not to touch him. It wouldn’t be unusual, but it doesn’t come with the same innocence and freedom it used to. Biting the inside of my cheek, I lower my face and hide my shy smile.

“What’s that look about?” he queries.

I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” The bell signalling the end of our lunch break shrieks through the hall, breaking our moment. He pushes off the wall, and begins to walk backward, away from me, and to his next class. He doesn’t say a word, but his stare might as well come with its own siren, because I hear it calling to me louder than any of the background noise that’s begun to surround us. He calls out, and I have no choice but to give him the attention he deserves. “We walking home together?”

“When don’t we?”

“I’m just checking, you know? In case something’s changed.”

He knows.

“Has it?”

He stops in the middle of the corridor like we’re they only two people. “Only if you want it to.”

He winks. My face heats up and my heart stops beating. Is he saying what I think he is?

3

Hendrix

Two Months Later

Casually, I push open Emerson and Jagger’s front door. Slightly ajar, I figure they’re inside busy settling in and setting up their new place. After spending all of yesterday packing and unloading both of their belongings from their separate houses, they’re finally taking the next step.

A quick look around shows there’s no one in sight. “Honey, I’m home,” I call out into the empty space.

From behind the kitchen counter, a messy bun of blonde hair pops up, a familiar face attached. Nude, glossy, full lips pull up into a come-hither smile. Placing her hands on the Caesar stone counter, she leans forward. Pressing her breasts together, her cleavage peeks out from the top of her loose tank. My eyes flicker between the glimmer of mischief in her gaze and her perfectly situated body.

A low whistle echoes throughout the room. “Well if it isn’t sexy twin number two. Honey is home, and she would love a kiss.”

My head shakes in disbelief as my chest rumbles with laughter. “The name’s Hendrix.”

“Oh, I know your name, but I like my name for you better.”

Taylah is Emerson's best friend. Forced together a few times, all of our previous meetings have been fleeting, and filled with Emerson and Jagger drama. As first impressions go, she’s loud, outspoken and unapologetically unfiltered.

She walks around the bench, and the full length of her body comes into view. Her black jeans grip her body tight, accentuating every curve perfectly. Her tank is shorter in the front showing off her porcelain midriff, and I kick myself for being too self-centred to notice what a delectable package she is.

Lifting herself up on the edge of the kitchen bench, she crosses her legs, and leans back on her hands, like she’s waiting for me.

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