Page 45 of Fight or Flight
“What?”
“You want the card, then say please.”
His glare deepens, and his cheeks and neck flush soft pink.
“Remember all those lessons you should have gotten in kindergarten about manners and how to talk nicely to people when you want something from them?” I ask when he just keeps glaring at me. “That was good life advice.”
“Give me the card.” He takes a step closer so we’re only a few feet apart now.
“Not until you say the magic word.” I cross my arms.
“Do not fuck with me tonight,” he practically growls at me.
“Why not? You gonna hit me?” I arch one eyebrow at him. “Or maybe you want to tackle me so you can feel me under you again.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Is that what you want, Shaney? You want to get off again?”
“Maybe you’re the one who wants me to hit you again,” he says in that growly voice that’s somehow both amusing and hot as hell. “And you’re the one who wants to get off again, hmmm?”
I huff out a laugh. “I’ve never made a secret that I’m down for a little dude-on-dude action with you.”
“Why?”
“Why am I down for a little dude-on-dude action?” I ask, genuinely confused by the question.
“Why are you down for it withme?”
“Because you’re hot.”
His eyes widen, like he didn’t expect me to admit that I find him attractive.
“And because it’s fun.”
His surprised look melts back into a glare. “So this is just a flipping the straight guy thing? You like the challenge of making me question everything I’ve ever thought about myself?”
“Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t get my jollies from causing sexual identity crises in people.”
He snort-laughs. “Yeah, right.”
“I don’t want you because you’re straight.” I take a half step toward him. “And I don’t get any satisfaction fromflippingstraight guys. You know why?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see a flare of something that almost looks like hope in his eyes.
“Because that’s not a thing,” I say. “You don’t have to be queer to enjoy playing with dicks, and whatever label you choosefor yourself is up to you, but no one can change your sexuality. You are what you are, and if you’re learning stuff about yourself because of what we did, then that means it was always there and I’m just bringing it to the surface.”
“I don’t get you,” he says, more of his anger melting away. “You’re an asshole who’s made a sport out of driving me crazy and pissing me off to the point of violence, but then you turn around and say weirdly supportive shit like that. And you’re not using my confusion against me. Like, you wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone who’d listen if you saw me fall into the fountain in the main quad because I was too busy looking at my phone to pay attention to where I was walking or something equally embarrassing, but you’re going to keep what happened between us a secret?”
“I am an enigma wrapped up in a conundrum,” I say seriously.
He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “And there’s that mouth again.”
“And you have no idea what this mouth can actually do.”
He pins me with a flat look.
“But you’re right,” I continue. “I do enjoy driving you crazy and pissing you off to the point of violence. You know why?”
