10. Nolan #2
She swallows, her cheeks a light shade of pink as she widens the gap between us by taking an additional step back. “Thanks for that. He’s just some guy I have a class with. I nearly agreed to see a bug exhibit with him.”
“You invited him tonight?”
“I didn’t have to. The entire sophomore class is here. Did Ethan make it, yet?”
I nod. “I was going to go introduce him to Hannah.”
Hadley’s brow pinches. “He’s not a jerk, right?”
“What?”
“Ethan. I don’t want to introduce him to her if he’s an asshole.”
“I don’t know much about him,” I admit.
“Will you tell him that if he is an asshole to her, I will make it my college mission to make his life miserable?”
Loyalty.
For me, it’s the most disarming quality of a woman. Ideas of creating a channel between us swiftly dies.
“Make me sound vicious.” She flashes a smile, then takes a step back, and another, until she disappears into the crowd.
Every impulse says to follow her, but instead, I stick to my word and find Ethan again. This time, he’s alone, looking out of place as he finishes a beer.
“I have a friend you should meet,” I tell him.
Ethan looks at me with raised brows. “Yeah?”
“She’s good friends with my sister, so I’ll disembowel you if you act like a tool, but…”
He visibly blanches.
I nod, finding Hannah in the crowd so I can point her out. “Blonde with glasses, blue shirt.”
“Is this a test?” Ethan asks.
I shake my head. “She asked if I knew you.”
He lifts his brow. “I don’t think I’m following…”
“If you want to meet her, I’ll introduce you, if you don’t, I’ll make an excuse on your behalf.”
“She’s interested in me?”
“You heard the disemboweling part, right?”
Ethan nods. “Loud and clear.” He turns to look at Hannah a second time. “I’m game.”
We cross the dining room to reach Hannah. Her smile is instant, revealing just how interested she is in him. “Hey, Hannah, this is Ethan. Ethan, Hannah.”
Hannah nods. “Yeah, we have a class together.”
“We do?”
She nods again. “Yeah. Professor Smith’s class.”
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah.” He’s a shit liar. It’s the assurance I need.
“I’m going to grab another beer. I’ll see you guys later.” I let a crowd suck me in, toasting and cheering with people who celebrate me on tonight’s game. Some hug me, others take pictures. A few are friends, most are strangers, several are drunk.
The energy of the party wanes, regardless of my attempts to turn off the voice in my head, reminding me to have fun and not care. I can’t stop looking for Hadley.
I spot her in the kitchen, laughing with a girl I don’t recognize. The other girl waves goodbye and takes the hand of a guy beside her. Hadley glances around the party and I can’t silence my pride as it wonders if it’s me, she’s looking for.
With tonight’s victory still hot in my veins, I start toward her. Her gaze meets mine when I’m still a dozen feet away and the edges of her lips curl with a smile.
It feels like a goddamn touchdown.
A win.
The exact excuse I was waiting for.
“How did it go?” she asks. “Did they click? Are they still hanging out?”
I soak in the hopefulness in her shocking blue eyes, and the excitement in her tone that encourages me to strive for that same note of enthusiasm from her every damn day, and take another step, so close I feel her breath against my mouth.
I lean one hand against the wall, drunk on the scent of her perfume, and the flash of heat that nearly eclipses the doubt and question in her gaze.
“Are you—”
I nod once and lean into her, brushing my lips against hers. It’s a question. A theory. A whisper.
Her eyes are open, I know because mine are too, and I don’t know why.
I’ve never kissed someone with my eyes wide open.
She’s probably wondering if this is a prank, whereas I’m staring because I want to see if her eyes change and will reveal that she’s turned on—that she wants me and has been thinking about me because I’ve been wanting to kiss her since she began infecting my thoughts last week.
It’s only been a few days, and yet, it feels like I’ve wanted her for years.
I press my free hand against her lower back, pulling her more firmly against my chest, and close my eyes as I angle my head and kiss her more deeply.
She tastes of beer and mint as I gently ply at her lips, catching her bottom lip with my teeth.
I graze my teeth against the plump flesh, and her breath hitches as her hands fist at the back of my shirt.
She kisses me back then, the hesitancy gone as blood surges through my body, whooshing in my ears, blocking out the sounds around us as I memorize the way her lips slide and catch on my lower lip.
I place my thumb on her chin, as though directing her to open her mouth for me, and energy hits me like a spike of lust as she follows the silent instruction and I sweep my tongue in her mouth, brushing against hers.
I groan, starved to taste more of her and travel my hands around her body to explore each part of her and discover each sound and breath she makes, but then she tilts her head, a silent invitation to continue kissing her, and without missing a beat, I rise to the task, kissing her with a level of intensity and purpose like kissing her is what I spend eight hours a day preparing for.
I’ve always considered kissing as an unnecessary but customary first step in foreplay, but as Hadley moans her pleasure into my mouth and I steal her gum with my tongue, I understand why so many goddamn songs are written about kissing—because now, surviving on her breaths, it feels like I’m breathing for the first time in too damn long.
“What in the actual fuck?”
The voice is a bucket of ice water that has me pulling away from Hadley, something in my chest sinking and heavy as I turn, searching through the crowds for Katie, waiting to see contempt and judgment.
I spot my little sister by the door, staring in the opposite direction of where I was just making out with her friend, staring at the party with absolute horror.