Page 16 of Chosen Boy

Ryann stops next to her. “You good? Or do you want me to stay?”

Sutton gives me a strange look before giving her a small nod. “I’m good. Go to bed. I’m coming in right behind you.”

Once Ryann is gone, she turns her attention back to me.

“I got your number from the dance lady, Jolene. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”

I feel my body shiver when she sits next to me, her thigh touching mine. The smell of perfume assaults my nose. It smells good, but it doesn’t smell like her. At the library and again at the dance studio, she was close enough for me to breathe her in. She smelled like a damn sugary cupcake. This is more like an expensive hooker, and that makes me uneasy.

“I was…out. What’s up?”

“Out where?”

She looks the slightest bit nervous as she shifts around. “Just out.” Something inside of her snaps. “Why does it matter to you? And why would it be any of your business where I was?”

“It isn’t, I guess,” I mutter. “You’ve been avoiding me for almost a week. I don’t want to do this dancing shit any more than you do. But if I don’t? LaConte will have my balls. So, for the love of fuck, can you just grow up a little so we can get this shit over with?”

“Fine,” she gripes. “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow night. We’ll start then,” I say bluntly.

“I…have plans tomorrow night. Could we meet up in the morning? I just have one class first thing, but I’ll be done by eleven thirty.”

She has plans.

I shouldn’t care. Hell, a week ago, I would have fucked Paige if she hadn’t been so hammered. But she was drunk and passed out, and I had to carry her into her house. But that was a week ago. Before I suddenly gave a fuck what Sutton was doing with her free time.

But I do care. And that’s really fucking annoying. She isn’t mine to care who she has plans with. And I don’t want her to be either. I want Paige. IlovePaige.

“That should be fine.” I nod stiffly, swallowing hard. “I have no idea how this whole thing is going to work. I don’t dance.”

I swear her lips turn up a tiny bit. The ice queen smiles—a little anyway.

“I think, for tomorrow, we could just meet up and brainstorm some ideas on what we’re going to do. What vibe we’re going for. And then after that, we can start actually practicing. If that’s okay with you anyway.”

“That’s fine.” I nod. “Meet at the coffee shop? Seems like a neutral place. Plus, if you murder me, enough witnesses will be around,” I half-joke. “Noon?”

“You know what they say—the most obvious is the least obvious,” she deadpans. “I’ll be there.”

As she stands up, dusting her hands off, I get a peek of what’s under her zipped-up hoodie—a scrap of lace. Whatever she was out doing, she sure as hell wasn’t doing it alone. An uneasy feeling settles in my soul. Knowing she was out being naughty for some random dude pisses me off.

“Have a good night,” I say, clearing my throat. I stand awkwardly, unintentionally invading the fuck out of her space as I step past her and off the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too,” she mutters, almost acting confused by me as she heads inside.

And that’s okay. Because I’m confused as fuck too.

8

Hunter

After practice, I shower and drive to the coffee shop. Part of me wonders if she’ll even show up today. But it almost seemed like we called a truce last night. Like, it clicked to her that we have to get this shit over with.

I wonder what she’ll show up smelling like today. A cupcake or a fucking hooker. Then again, she said she had plans tonight, so maybe she’s saving the hooker perfume for then.

I get there a few minutes early, so I head inside and get us a table while I wait. And at noon, on the dot, she strolls in.

Her black leggings are sculpted to her legs, hugging her ass in a way that makes every motherfucker in here take a peek—including me. Her hair is in two French braids instead of her normal bun or ponytail. But still, it’s out of her face, and it makes me wonder if she just can’t stand her hair being a mess.

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