Page 90 of Vicious Games

But friends? Beinghisfriend feels… nice. Different.

Maybe that’s why I freaked out.

I’m not used to having nice things in my life. Not used to people choosing to stay in it.

And the scariest part of all? A part of me hopes he will. That he stays for the long haul.

“No.” I shake my head when I realize he’s still awaiting my reply. “We can be friends.”

“Good,” he says with a little smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze flicks back down to my lips before he pulls away. “Guess I’ll see you Monday then…friend.”

My heart sinks straight to the pit of my stomach.

Two whole days without seeing him? Why do I hate the sound of that?

“Guess so,” I mumble, frowning.

I reach for the car handle, ready to get out, but Lucky’s hand on my thigh stops me. I freeze, glancing over at him. He’s staring straight ahead again, his jaw tight.

“I know we just said we’re friends and shit,” he starts, voice low, “but I gotta tell you something.”

I try not to read into why my breath catches and instead ask him, “What is it?”

“I really hate that we didn’t have our tutoring session today.”

“I think my grades will survive.” I smile, relaxing a little.

“That’s not why,” he says, frowning deeper. “I hate that I have to wait two whole fucking days to kiss you again.”

The world tilts a little as my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.

Lucky flicks his gaze back to me, his brown eyes darker now, almost smoldering. And to my chagrin, I can’t help but look at his mouth, at his lips, and for a split second, I swear they call out to me. However, I don’t lean in. I don’t let myself. Instead, I let out a long sigh, my shoulders sagging.

“I hate it too,” I admit in a whisper, then gather whatever bit of courage I have left and lean in to press a soft kiss on his cheek.

Lucky closes his eyes, breathing me in like he’s trying to memorize my touch, his fingers squeezing my thigh gently.

When I pull away, my breath is ragged, my body buzzing. Lucky’s eyes open, and his usual soft, burnished brown is no longer there but a stormy, midnight shade, dark and burning.

I know if I stay even one second longer, I’ll do something reckless like kiss him right here where anyone can see us.

Where Sister Margaretta can see us.

So instead, I whisper a rushed, “Goodnight,” and practically bolt from the car, sprinting up the stairs and slipping inside the orphanage.

Once the door clicks shut behind me, I slump against it, clutching my chest, my heart racing like a runaway train.

Lucky said he was my friend, but friends don’t kiss like we do.

Friends don’t make each other feel like they’re standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall.

Friends don’t turn the air into electricity every time they’re near one another.

What have I gotten myself into?

Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps having Lucky as my enemy was the safer bet.

Because being friends with him is starting to feel like the biggest risk I’ve ever taken.

---