Page 12 of Jig's Last Dance

“Cereal,” I murmur, climbing into a chair and watching as he pulls out two bowls, spoons, and the cereal. When he turns away to grab the milk, I pour the cereal, ignoring his appreciative hum.

We eat silently, and my stomach calms, the acidic burn soothed. I’m halfway through my bowl when Jig says, “What was your brother so upset about, anyway?”

Stiffening, I clench my spoon before forcing my muscles to relax. It’s an innocent question, but I hate talking about my life. The inevitable curiosity that follows leaves me with no choice but to make up lies.

And I’m tired of hiding the truth.

With a heavy exhale, I say, “Just family stuff.”

“Oh? Why’s he all up in your business?”

“He’s my guardian,” I mutter, standing and stepping around the island to place my empty bowl in the sink.

He cocks his head to the side, and I shift uneasily under his gaze. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” I say flatly. His chin drops, and a flash of something passes over his eyes.

The quiet between us is awkward, and I avoid looking at him until he says, “My parents aren’t dead, but they might as well be.”

Startled, I meet his solemn stare. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, grabbing his bowl. “They just never come around.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. If you had asked me yesterday, I would’ve assumed Jig liked it that way. No one to hinder his partying. But today I’m not sure.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands together with a mischievous grin. “Video games.”

His smile is contagious and my lips curl, but curiously I search his gaze.

What’s he hiding behind that smile?

Down several halls we go until I’m thoroughly lost before we enter a room that looks like NASA launches space shuttles from within. This includes a massive television with a plush couch, and I plunk down on it, watching bemused as he sets up a game and collapses beside me.

“Here.” He hands me a controller, and I grab it with a grin. Strangely, I find that I’m enjoying this peaceful interlude with Jig, and his playful attitude inspires me to get sassy.

“I’m so gonna kick your ass,” I say.

His eyes light with fire, and I suck in a breath, releasing it slowly when he says, “How about a friendly wager?”

“Wager?”

“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips. “I win, I get to eat that pussy.”

I shiver, I can’t fucking help it, and his eyes widen with delight.

“And if I win?”

His mouth curls into a smirk. “What do you want?”

I lean away and study him carefully. He’s making this fun and, well, sexual, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wondered what it would be like with him. Tomorrow I can go back to avoiding him and his unsavory friends. Today, I just want to feel something other than the empty ache that fills my belly most days.

“It hardly seems fair. You’re already doing something for me,” I whisper.

He chuckles and raises my chin, his fingers warm against my skin. “Okay, how about this? I win, you suck my dick. You win, I eat you out until you’re screaming my name.”

Rolling my eyes, I smack his arm, pausing when he says solemnly, “Deal?”

Slowly I nod, my pulse jumping when a grin spreads across his face and he fist pumps the air. “Fuck, yeah.”

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