Page 56 of Phantom Faceoff
Micky rolls his eyes and thumbs toward the alley. “On break. Bother him at your own risk, though.”
Warning me against doing anything is the most surefire way to make sure I do it. He should know that about me by now.
With a quick salute, I round the front of the building to the alley, dimly lit by the sky overhead but drowned in the shadows cast between the buildings.
Malachi sits with his back to the brick wall, knees pulled up, scrolling on his phone with headphones in. A pretty clear indicator he doesn’t want to be bothered.
However, I’m a master at ignoring Do Not Disturb signs.
The broken concrete crackles beneath my sneakers, and I come to a stop directly in front of him.
There’s no immediate reaction, so I tap my shoe on the side of his. He doesn’t bother to look up, simply copies me and continues on his phone.
Thirty seconds pass, and I cross my arms. Tap his foot again.
This time his eyes find mine, his brows raise, and the smallest of smiles forms on his lips.
That’s all of the attention he gives me, and when he looks away this time, I feel something gross and ugly churn in my stomach.
I crouch down and yank on one of his earbuds, satisfied as it pops out and seems to garner an instant reaction. He frowns, snapping his gaze on me.
“Wildfire.” The word is harsh like an accusation.
“Blanchard.”
His face is unreadable, and it ticks something off in my brain.
“I’ve got ten minutes left. Can it wait?”
Could I pop a squat and kill ten minutes easy enough until he’s ready to socialize? Yes.
Am I going to?
I shove his knees apart with my hands and fit myself between them. My hands smack into the brick beside Malachi’s head.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” He shuts off his phone and puts it in his pocket, straightening his legs and hooking a finger in the elastic of my shorts. “Come here.”
It’s like a game of Tetris, positioning my legs on either side of his thighs, his hands putting pressure on my waist until I lower my weight to his lap.
The position is almost comforting; Malachi’s warmth seeps through where his hands and thighs touch. But the flurry in my chest isn’t quite settled.
I squirm, and Malachi tightens his grip on my waist. “What do you need?”
“What makes you think I need anything?”
He hums, then takes a hand off my waist to pinch my chin between his fingers.
“Wildfire.” This time it’s a command.
I hate that I respond so readily to it. “I failed the stupid test.”
Malachi’s eyes widen in surprise, then soften in understanding. I hate that even more.
“You get a pass from dealing with me,” I mutter, but Malachi’s hand still clenching my face forces my eyes on his. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to decide if you’re asking for a spanking, a kiss, or an obituary on the school website.”
The dry humor actually gets me, cracks a little of the chaos weighing me down, but I’m still acutely aware of what he’s asking me. The answer is,I don’t fucking know.
