Eight #3
She walks unsteadily, using the wall of the club to support her.
Eventually a guy, presumably much more sober than she is, puts her over his shoulder, happily clowning around with her.
He squeezes her thighs together as Shana licks the side of his neck, giggling.
It wouldn’t bother me at all, seeing her this way, if it weren’t for the fact that, as soon as she notices Thomas’s presence, her gaze locks on him and stays there.
He’s ignoring her, still trying to order a ride, but Shana is undaunted.
If looks could talk, hers would be screaming, Pay attention to me, damn it! Here I am!
When she notices the vicious look I’m giving her in return, it doesn’t bother her one little bit.
She just lifts one corner of her mouth in a smug smirk, as if to say she’s not afraid of me.
Our stares only grow sharper and more tense.
At this point, we are basically attempting to destroy one another with the power of our minds.
Thomas finally finishes up on his phone and says something to me, but I’m not listening to him.
When he turns to face me, probably waiting for an answer, he sees that Shana and I are exchanging nasty looks, downright filthy even.
“Ignore her,” he orders.
I don’t listen to him. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and continue to face her with the same menacing vibe she’s directing at me. I am certainly not going to be the first to look away.
“Can you believe it? She isn’t even trying to pretend she’s not obsessed with you. She’s just eyefucking you right here in front of me. That poor guy carrying her doesn’t even realize she couldn’t care less about him.” I say the words to Thomas, but I’m staring at Shana the whole time.
He laughs. Perhaps he finds my jealousy entertaining. Too bad I’m not enjoying it at all. Then Thomas rubs my cheekbone with his thumb before sliding a hand down to my hip and turning me until I’m facing him.
“Don’t let her get to you, okay? Instead, why don’t you tell me what went down between you two?”
I sigh and rub my forehead. I don’t want to play the part of the damsel in distress who whines to her boyfriend just because she was bullied by his crazy, jealous ex. But I can tell by the way he is looking at me that he’s not going to stop pushing until I tell him what he wants to know.
I hide my hands in the pouch of his sweatshirt and blurt it all out.
“Last Monday we had a little run-in in the bathroom at school. And she made a point of telling me that it’s only a matter of time before you come back to her.
Because that’s what you always do.” Out of pride, I do my best to sound indifferent.
I don’t want him to know how much the possibility of that actually happening haunts me.
“Did she really say that to you?” he asks, troubled.
“Yeah. Well, not before tossing a whole coconut smoothie on me in front of the entire cafeteria, but yes.” If I think too hard about it, I feel the uncontrollable urge to rush over to her right now and rip every damn strand of red hair right out of her head.
“What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me then?” he bursts out after an incredulous moment.
“Because it didn’t concern you,” I answer quickly, but I regret my knee-jerk response. I can see from the stricken look he gives me that I’ve hurt him. I hang my head, feeling guilty.
He rests one hand on my waist and tilts my chin up with the other. “It does concern me. Everything that happens to you concerns me.”
I shrug, as if it was no big thing. “There’s nothing you could have done about it anyway. She hates me because she wants you, and that’s not going to change.”
Thomas pauses, seemingly to think about this.
Then, in a reassuring voice, he says, “That stuff she told you is bullshit. Total bullshit. I wasn’t with her because I had some romantic interest in her.
I was with her because she was around whenever I wanted and because she was cool with what we were doing.
But she always knew that it was just sex. ”
I get what he’s trying to tell me. They were both using each other, but apparently one of them was lying about it, and it’s not hard to guess who. I let out a heavy sigh and shake my head. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
Thomas hesitates, seemingly about to say something in reply, but instead goes along with my request. I check the time again to see how long it’s been since Tiffany and Leila went to the bathroom, and I see that more than ten minutes have passed.
Even Thomas seems worried, darting quick looks between the back of the club and the small rowdy group of his friends.
“Hey,” he says then, in a softer voice. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and stands in front of me.
“I didn’t tell you that stuff to hurt you; I told you because I want to be honest with you.
No secrets between us. You’re my girlfriend now, right?
” He gives me a crooked smile, fully aware of the effect those words have on me.
Like an idiot, I find myself grinning back at him, biting my lip, trying to hide it.
“I don’t want her bullshit getting inside your head,” he finishes, lightly touching my face.
I look up and smile at him. “It’s okay; I get it.”
“You sure?”
I nod. I want to trust in what he’s saying; I want to trust him. “But just so you know, she’s still staring at you.”
He doesn’t even turn around to check and see if it’s true, just gives a sly grin and slots his mouth over mine before pulling back to look into my eyes.
“So let’s give her something to look at,” he suggests, his voice rough.
I give him a questioning look, but I don’t even have time to answer before his hands are on my hips.
He pushes me up against the car door and presses his body to mine.
He captures my lips with a passionate, hungry kiss.
He slips his tongue into my mouth as he drags his fingers through my hair.
My mouth chases Thomas’s, my tongue rubbing gently against the piercing in his.
We kiss for what feels like an endless amount of time, one of his hands resting firmly on the back of my neck and the other kneading my ass.
The moment I pull away, I can feel the total lack of air in my lungs.
I stare up at him, thoroughly bewitched.
Absolutely lost. His face is cocked to one side, his half-closed eyes watching me with such intensity that it makes the butterflies burst forth in my stomach again.
I touch his stubbly cheek with my fingertips, the rest of my hand almost entirely swallowed by the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and I curl up against him, tucking my head underneath his chin.
Thomas wraps his arms around me before checking over his shoulder. “She’s not looking anymore,” he tells me. “In fact, she’s not even here.”
I smile because I realize that I don’t even care anymore.
I close my eyes and breathe in his scent, welcoming it, getting drunk on it.
He’s warm like a toasty bed at the end of a long day, and he smells like the grass after it rains.
He smells like home. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but this is absolutely my favorite place in the whole world. ”
I feel his chest jerk with a flimsy laugh. “What, in my arms?” he asks sweetly.
I nod silently, nuzzling myself further into his body.
“You make me feel safe, Thomas. You make me feel at home.” A strange sort of warmth fills my chest. Thomas doesn’t answer, but I don’t need him to.
It’s enough for me to feel his arms tighten around me as he holds me even closer, for him to press a delicate kiss to the top of my hair.