Page 87 of Green Flag
“You should come to the hotel,” I said, sitting on Luca’s lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He looked up but avoided my eyes, a smile plastered across his face. “Hello, darling.” His hand rubbed up my back.
Even our interactions — falsely romantic or purely platonic — had been etched with a hint of sadness.
I leaned into his ear. “I mean it. Not for show. Come to the hotel. My room, specifically.”
His eyes widened, something startling him for the first time in weeks. He needed something to shake him. To jolt him back.
“Notfor show?”
I shook my head and lowered my voice further. “I bought some panties that have a slit.”
He blinked rapidly. “Everly,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t go offering yourself just because I’m sad.”
I wriggled on his lap. “Not what I’m doing.”
“We said we wouldn’t… we said that we wouldn’t blur the lines.” But his hands gripped my hips, holding me tightly, stopping me from really having my way on his lap.
I flipped my hair back over my shoulder, surveying the pit box watching us. Dad cleared his throat and turned around.
Nix had his eyebrows raised as he looked up from his phone. But his judgmental gaze wasn’t aimed at me, but at his teammate.
Luca said in my hair, “It’s not a good idea.”
“You’re right,” I said, taking his chin and guiding him to look back at me. “It’s a great idea.”
His smile was soft and he reached up to kiss my forehead. “You don’t have to pity me.”
“I don’t,” I said truthfully. “Just come to my hotel room. Or the bar. That way, you won’t have to drink alone.”
Ces had stopped me in the tunnel and told me that last night, he’d seen Luca looking a little worse for wear and that he’d been drinking more than usual.
I couldn’t blame him, but drinking alone was just pretty sad.
He chewed on the side of his cheek, eyes narrowed as he tried to analyse me.
“I promise not to seduce you,” I laughed in his ear. “Only if you beg me.”
He rolled his eyes fondly, with a small smile and pressed a kiss to my temple. “You’re the worst.”
“And you’re the best.”And I’m worried about you.
He considered, but I couldn’t deal with the rejection, so I pressed, “I’ve got a dinner reservation and a dancing class booked.”
“Oh, you really are the worst,” he laughed and tapped my nose. “You know I can’t dance.”
“Did you miss the word ‘class’?” I asked. “I know you are rhythmically challenged, Mendes. And these are line dancing classes. You just have to move your feet. It’ll be fun.”
“And are you going to be twirling around in those panties with the slit? Might get cold down there.”
I wanted to fall about laughing, but I pressed my laugh into his shoulder. “I’m sure you could warm me up down there after.”
I didn’t know what was happening between us. I wanted him. Surely he could see that it wasn’t just pity?
We’d said we would still flirt. But this wasn’t friend-level of flirting… nor flanter, anymore. This was ‘I want to rip your clothes off and leave you undressed for days while we fuck’ and the tension was building and building…
It would snap eventually.
