Page 14 of My Best Friend's Bully

Oh my god, what is wrong with me?I still want to strangle the guy, but now I’m thinking about his body? I’ve finally cracked. This is what it looks like when the stress takes over and you lose your mind. He may quite be the hottest guy I’ve seen in person, but it can’t make up for his less than appetizing personality. I think back to how awful he was at the hospital, to Cole, to me, and I get up from my seat.

“Oh, I’m disappointed. There are at least three bites left,” he teases, “And you didn’t finish your sugar bomb,” he continues, giving my milkshake cup a shake.

“I need to check in on Cole.” I tug on the sticking zipper of my book bag until it gives in to my command, and dig around inside until I find my phone. No messages. What the heck? I wonder if he left his phone somewhere, or maybe the battery died while he was out. I’m not going to panic. Not yet, but I am getting worried.

“Anything?” he asks.

I look up. Some of the earlier pleasantry is gone from his face, and he looks more like the man I met at the hospital — stern and agitated. “No, not a single text. Has he messaged you?”

Tyson snorts and pulls his phone from his pocket. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Do you guys ever talk?” I ask.

He rolls the trash up into a ball, tosses it into the bag, and takes it over to the garbage can, smashing it down into the bin with more force than necessary. His forearms flex, showing off the muscle there. “No.”

His single-word response leaves little room for more prying, but I’m dying to figure out what’s going on between them. This is not the sort of sibling relationship I’d imagined in my daydreams as an only child. I shiver, feeling a sudden wave of coldness, and wish Cole would show up already. Maybe I should go, but I need to check in with Cole before I can sleep. “I’m going to make a fire,” I call over my shoulder, picking up my book bag and carrying it into the living room, FaerieBeast following close behind.

I toss my bag down next to the coffee table and kneel in front of the fireplace. Usually, this is Cole’s job. We’d get a big fire going, put on a pot of hot chocolate, and settle in for a night of studying and pounding marshmallows. FaerieBeast would fall asleep next to the fire and Cole and I would laugh at her snoring. I’ve watched Cole build a fire a hundred times, so it should be easy enough. Ten minutes later, I’m covered in soot, the logs are as cold as they were when I started, and FaerieBeast has given up on me, leaving instead to sleep on the couch.

“Oh wow, I should go turn the heat down if you’re going to roast us like this.” Tyson leans in the living room doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a sardonic smile on his face. “Don’t burn yourself now.”

I resist the urge to hurl kindling at him. “I didn’t ask for an audience.”

“It’s complimentary,” he says, sitting down on the couch next to FaerieBeast to watch.

With his gaze on my back, I restack the logs. To his credit, he keeps his mouth shut until my third failure.

“May I help?” Tyson kneels down beside me, close enough that the scent of his musky cologne makes me want to grab his shirt and bury my nose into his neck and inhale his intoxicating aroma. God, what is wrong with me.

“Be my guest,” I say, gesturing to the fireplace as I stifle back my totally inappropriate and unwanted urges.

He rearranges the logs, and with nothing more than a little dryer lint, has the whole thing blazing in minutes. I give him a round of applause and he takes a gracious bow. FaerieBeast, deeming his efforts worthy, reclaims her spot next to the fireplace.

“Survival skills don’t come with the education, I see,” he says, dusting the ash off of his hands.

“Not until senior year,” I reply, pulling out my books and spreading them across the coffee table.

He stands and walks to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two full mugs of coffee, setting one beside me. To my surprise, he sits down on the floor near me, close enough for our knees to touch.

“Want me to quiz you?” He points to my ever-growing stack of flash cards.

I’m about to say no when I reconsider. His presence gets my heart rate up and I need practice working under stressful situations. It’s just for practice, I swear, not because I want an excuse to spend more time with him.He’s a puzzle I want to figure out, that’s all it is.

“Sure,” I say, sliding the stack to him. “But be quick. And there’s no mercy allowed.”

“Oh, I can be ruthless.” He sounds like the devil himself when he says it. Then the quizzing begins, and finally my mind can focus on something other than him.

We make it through the first half of the stack before I stumble on my first incorrect answer. He shakes his head like a disappointed father.

“Wrong! Put a new log on the fire as penance and think about what you’ve done.”

“Ooh, what a diabolical punishment.” I get up and do as he says, placing the log with care. With my inept fire making skills, I’ll snuff it out rather than feed it.

“Harsher punishment next time, noted,” he says, picking up the stack again as I sit back down.

We’ve flown through another portion of the pile when I get hung up on a question. I squirm closer, trying to peek behind the card for the answer, but he holds it up over his head. When I go to reach for it, he leans away, and without the support of his body, I fall forward onto him, colliding with his chest. He catches me before we can both hit the floor, wrapping his arms around me. I can feel the muscles of his chest against me and when I look up, his face is inches from my own.

He doesn’t pull away, and neither do I. Slowly, he closes the gap between us, pressing his lips to mine. They’re soft, but his kiss is forceful, and heat floods my body from my head to my toes. I can’t help it, and I’m kissing him back, parting my lips when I feel his tongue against them. His hand reaches up to cup the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. I grab tightly to his shirt, bunching it between my fingers, and throw my arms around his neck, desperate for more.

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