Page 66 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
He gave me a skeptical look. "Secrets can't be traded for non-secrets. That's the secret law."
I laughed. "You sound just like Z."
"You mean he sounds like me," Andros jutted out his lush lower lip. "I'm the older one."
"True. The original gangsta."
He chuckled.
"How about this, we talk out the worst-case scenarios, and contingency plan ... And then have a secret exchange at the end?" I proposed. "Something to look forward to."
He ran a finger across his lower lip as he narrowed his eyes at me. "What kind of secrets? You want to know all the dirt on Z?"
I hitched up a brow. "Hell no. That's not nearly exciting enough. Everyone's got dirt on Z. He's as dirty as they get."
Andros laughed again and my chest lifted at the fact that he could laugh easily with me when he was typically so quiet and reserved. Something about that made me feel special. And I liked it.
"Okay, then what?" he repeated.
I leaned forward a little, drunk on the low soft sound of his laughter. "I want to know your secrets."
His face grew serious and his eyes studied me closely. "You sure? I got dropped on my heart a lot as a kid. I don't think you want to know the messed-up secrets I've got."
That confession alone ripped me up inside. My chest ached with longing and, for whatever reason, I wanted him to pour that pain into me so I could absorb it. I wanted to share it. I couldn't have explained why, because it wasn't really logical for me to feel that way. But I did. I wanted to wade into Andros’ pain and dive down deep until I was surrounded by it. I wanted to drink it up.
My eyes seared his and I think he saw my longing.
I didn't say any of that aloud. I felt crazy as shit for even thinking it. But his hand came up and his huge palm cupped my cheek.
"We practice for the worst and after each time, I'll give you a secret of mine in exchange for one of yours."
I nodded slowly, enjoying the rasp of his skin against my cheek. "You'll have better ones."
His fingertips traveled down to trace the side of my neck and he lingered on the scars that Claude had left there. He lightly touched one. "I doubt it."
Then he stepped back, leaving me feeling breathless and vulnerable, and utterly filled with anticipation as he walked away.
