Page 72 of Enemy Crush
“You’re in?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Yep, I’m in.”
“Congrats!”
“Thank you. I must admit it was a bit of a shock.” And then my gaze intensified. “Ooh, you know what else was a shock?”
Miller’s eyes widened in anticipation.
“I heard that you picked a fight Ronan King”
Miller blew out his cheeks. “Ha, it was hardly a fight. Just a push. I barely touched the guy.”
“I never went on a date with him.”
Miller hung his head and grimaced, “Yeah, I know that now. I guess I got a bit carried away.” He peered at me with puppy dog eyes from under his long eyelashes and whispered, “I think I’m gonna get carried away again.”
And his fingers fumbled at the back of my head, releasing my bun from its tight knot and weaving his hands through my hair.
“Uh huh,” I murmured, enjoying the tingle resonating through me as his touch fluttered across the back of my neck.
“Don’t think I can wait until our first date,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“It’s only—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday—six days away,” I said, tapping my fingers against his back as I counted the days.
“An eternity,” he said, his nose flicking mine, his forehead brushing mine. “And you do look good in that flannel.”
“Someone gave it to me,” I said as his lips inched closer, the feather light touch a tease I willingly surrendered to.
Miller’s lips danced with mine, a sweet tango for two, moving to our own beat. A slow flutter pulsating into a steady rhythm of lips in harmony. So perfect. If there was anyone around to witness it, we didn’t care. Only the two of us existed in that moment, the rest of the world forgotten.
Well, until heavy footsteps got louder and a throat cleared with such huskiness it sounded like someone was about to cough up a lung. Miller and I broke apart, and I bit down on my lower lip to stifle the giggle about to escape.
“Unless you two are rehearsing for the school musical,” a deep, dry voice said, “I suggest you find a more appropriate place for that performance.”
Miller straightened, but his hand remained on my lower back. “Mr. Thomspon,” Miller said with a cheesy grin, “how are you, sir?”
“I’m well, thank you, Trask.” His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Now, you and—,” he paused, obviously not recognizing me, “—your friend—need to move along.”
“Yessir,” Miller said, tugging me by the hand to my locker where the placards were stacked in a pile.
“I’m going to keep these,” I said, smiling at them.
“Great. A lot of work and effort went into those.”
“I can see that,” I said with a soft sigh. “And you really took me by surprise. I had no idea. I thought you were having second thoughts about us.”
“Yeah, sorry about being a bit weird this morning, but I needed to get my plan together.”
“Your friends are great,” I said.
“Yeah, they are,” he said.
“I think I like it here, at Snow Ridge High,” I said, it suddenly occurring to me that no one had said anything about the Devereaux demise. If the rumors were circulating, they certainly hadn’t gotten back to me.
“And I definitely like you being here at Snow Ridge High,” Miller said.
Chapter 23
