Page 14 of Landon & Shay: Part One

Everyone cracked up laughing because they knew how ridiculous the concept of me falling in love was. I didn’t love. I hardly liked.

The idea that I’d fall in love with my biggest annoyance was beyond absurd. “Listen, again, it was just stupid guy talk. Drop it, Chick.”

“What’s the matter, Satan?” she asked, walking up to me, standing nose to nose. “You afraid you might catch feelings for someone you hate?”

That was one thing about Shay that I couldn’t argue with—she had bark to her. I would have bet behind the bark was a nice bite, too.

“Never, but I’m not going to waste my time focusing my energy on you.”

“Well, who’s the chicken now? Cluck, cluck, cluck.” She smirked as the guys all snickered under their breaths.

Traitors.

“You really want to play with this fire, Shay?”

“I’d love to see you try to burn me,” she replied, still smiling. I’d be lying if I said her alpha side wasn’t a tad bit sexy. My jeans grew a bit tighter as she stood close, and I didn’t even try to hide the fact that she’d made that happen. Making my cock hard wasn’t the challenge, though. Making my heart soft was.

Hank rubbed his hands together. “Now, that’s a challenge I can get behind. Two sworn enemies in a battle of love, and the winner—”

“Has bragging rights for the rest of our lives.” Shay kept her chocolate eyes locked with mine, not backing down, and hell, I wasn’t going to back down either.

“What if no one falls in love?” Hank asked.

“Then, at the end of the school year, the bet is off. We have four and a half months to make it happen,” Shay explained.

I stepped in closer to her. “You sure you want to put yourself in this position, Chick?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Because once you love me, every other man you ever date will be an utter disappointment.”

“And once you love me, you’ll never be able to get me out of your head,” she said, stepping even closer. We were so close that her chest almost pressed against mine. At six-feet-two, I towered over her by quite a few inches. Yet she still kept her head held high.

If I hadn’t hated her so much, I would’ve thought it was cute, how she believed in her words, how she was so certain I’d lose the bet. But what she didn’t know about me was that there wasn’t much room in my life for love. My mind didn’t welcome such things. So, this win for me? Easy. Effortless. Pain-free.

“Please.” I smirked, lowering my head down toward her face. My lips were centimeters from hers. “I’m going to love every second of owning your body and your heart.”

“Whatever.” She stood on her tiptoes, and her lips moved in closer. I felt her hot breaths brushing against my skin. “I can make you fall in love with me without you even tasting my lips.”

“I can make you love me while still treating you like shit.”

“I double-dog dare you, Satan.” She held out her hand.

“Bet, Chick.”

Bet, bet, bet, bet.

I shook her hand, giving it a bit of a tight grip, and she matched the intensity. It was probably the first time we’d touched since she came into my room a year earlier and held me.

For a second, I thought about holding on for a while longer. My hands were always ice cold while hers felt like the sun.

“Shit.” Reggie whistled low before turning to the guys. “Are we sure they aren’t already screwing?”

“Honestly, it’s hard to tell,” Eric commented, but we both ignored them. I was already forming ideas for all the things I could do to make Shay fall in love with me. I was coming up with ways to get under her skin, to drive her crazy, to make myself irresistible. This felt like the task I’d been waiting for, the challenge I needed to keep my mind busy in the upcoming weeks.

Making Shay Gable fall in love with me was going to be a perfect distraction.

* * *

People continued getting shitfacedand being louder than they should’ve been, and I was surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the cops already. A few things got broken, and I couldn’t wait to tell my parents about the damage because that was my favorite pastime—figuring out what would piss them off enough for them to snap at me. Would it be the good china? The stained carpets? A few expensive vases? Who knew.

I knew it was immature and ridiculous, but I had this twisted need to piss my parents off. More so, my father. When he was pissed off, then he was at least talking to me. Correction: yelling at me.

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