Page 16 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Thought about what?”

“Kissing you.”

She huffed sarcastically. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“I know.”

It was true, though. It’d happened once—and only once—after Lance’s funeral. I had spent a lot of weeks being out of it, using alcohol to cope with the shitstorm raging inside my head, and I was a bit unstable. If my friends hadn’t been looking out for me, I would’ve probably gone overboard. I remembered walking into school one day and seeing Shay standing there at her locker with a few of her friends. She was laughing and tossing her head back in such a genuine way, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I kept thinking about how she’d held me weeks prior and stayed with me during the lowest point of my life. She had been there—my enemy—taking care of my scars. And as I’d stared at her in the hallway, I’d thought about thanking her—walking over to her, parting my lips, and giving her my gratitude. I wasn’t used to people doing shit for me with no hope of anything in return, and Shay had done it without any expectations.

I remembered looking at her eyes, and then moving down to her slender nose, and then her cheeks, then those juicy lips.

I wondered how those lips would taste if I used mine against them to thank her. I wondered if she tasted like the candy she was always popping into her mouth. I wondered if she dripped of the angelic sin I always claimed her to be. I wondered for a split second…considered it for a blink in time…and then she slammed her locker, walked away, and I sobered up.

Still, I had considered it.

We both went quiet for a few moments before I cleared my throat again. I didn’t like silence. Silence and I didn’t get along too well. “Just one kiss, Chick. I can keep it a secret.”

“You keep secrets the same way you keep girls. AKA, you don’t—other than Monica.”

“Monica’s not mine.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she thinks you’re hers.”

I smirked a little. “You jealous of her?”

“Jealous of her having to deal with a guy like you? Never in my life.”

“Whatever you say, Chick.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me Chick,” she snapped. “I hate it.”

“You want a new nickname, sweet cheeks? I can give you a new nickname, sweet cheeks.”

She shivered in disgust. Good. There was nothing I enjoyed more than getting on her nerves. “Not that either.”

“I’ll keep working on it.”

“Or you could just call me by my name.”

“Nah, Shay’s too ugly a name to leave my lips.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

“Yeah, but I hate you the most.”

I snickered. “You really think you can get a guy like me to fall in love with you?”

“Yes. I’m positive, actually. People are the easiest to read, and that includes you.”

“You can’t read me, Shay.”

“I can, like an open book.”

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