Chapter 22 #2
I grabbed the edges of the open dress shirt and clamped the sides closed.
“Or you could just tell me who you’ve decided to break my rules for to go out with, and we can leave.”
“So, this is a punishment. No. I’m not telling you, so you can go and harass some poor innocent guy.”
“Worried about him, are you? How sweet,” Brody murmured. He leaned on the wall and watched me.
“You’re being ridiculous. While we’re talking about your rules, I’m going to practice auditioning for the play tonight at a friend’s place.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, I am. There’s nothing embarrassing about the arts for the family reputation, remember.”
“Which friend?”
I blew out a long breath and turned to Brody. I walked up to him, reached out, and picked up his hand. He studied me curiously while I held it between us.
“Listen to me carefully, Sinclair. You’re not my dad. I’m not ten years old. Say it with me. I know you can do it.”
“Very funny,” he drawled.
I went to drop his hand and turn away when his fingers suddenly tightened around mine, and he tugged me closer. I collided with his chest, forgetting all about holding my shirt closed as I banged into him.
“Hey!”
“Your turn to listen to me carefully, cheer captain. I might as well be for the amount of control I have over you. My rules are to make sure that you don’t do something that will ultimately get your gold-digger mother in trouble, and maybe even get your sister’s special little school defunded. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“You’re so heartless, seriously! Why do you have to keep bringing Cici up? You know what it’s like to care about your sibling. You protect Cal from the world, don’t you? I know you do. How would you feel if someone threatened him?” I burst out passionately. I was completely over that threat.
He studied me for a long, loaded moment, and then, to my surprise, nodded. “Okay, fair point. You know the stakes; I won’t keep reminding you. Happy?”
I shrugged, hiding how elated I really was.
“And stop being weird about me going to a female friend’s dorm. I’m not going to jump off the roof or anything,” I muttered.
His hand still held mine. His fingers tightened for a second.
“Promise?” he murmured.
What the hell? I met his probing look.
“Of course not. We’re just going to get wasted and act out the entire play instead.”
He nodded. “Fine, but lose the getting wasted part. You don’t need it.”
I scoffed. “You really think I’m never going to drink again because of your so-called rules? I don’t even think it’s possible to completely quit drinking just like that—”
“But you’ve already lasted a whole week without it,” Brody interrupted. “You’re really exceptional at things when you get out of your own way.”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that unexpected, kind of backhanded compliment? This whole conversation was feeling far too intimate, here in the close, quiet changing room. I needed to wrap it up.
“Fine, whatever, Aisha isn’t really a drinker, so I was just pulling your leg. Can I go now?” I demanded.
He nodded. “I’m still going to need to check this guy out before you go anywhere with him, but it’s just for your own safety. You can tell me his name.”
His gaze dropped to our hands, and then he perused my body.
I’d forgotten that my bra was exposed, the shirt still unbuttoned.
Heat washed through me, scorching a path.
It was as unfamiliar to me as it was unwanted.
But it was also undeniable, and I’d die if he knew it.
My nipples contracted to points. I didn’t have to look to know it, I could feel it.
Brody was going to see. He was going to make fun of me for it.
I braced for just that, but then the strangest thing happened.
He didn’t make fun of me. He didn’t say anything.
Instead, he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.
His hand rose slowly towards my open shirt and heat beat inside my chest. Was he going to touch me?
My skin prickled, suddenly desperate for that illicit brush of fingertips, damning me.
But he didn’t touch me. Instead, his fingers moved to the bottom of my open shirt, and one by one, he did the buttons up.
How could dressing suddenly seem even hotter than undressing?
“Tell me, heathen.” His tone was pleasant, reasonable even. An act.
“Good to know, but I’m not falling for it,” I murmured. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
His gaze rose to my lips, and they suddenly felt dry as hell. I wet them before I could stop myself. Why was it so hot in here?
“Maybe it’s not about if you can… but about if you’re allowed to.” Brody’s focus was still glued to my lips.
I could melt on the spot. I was hot and bothered and embarrassingly conscious of how close he was and how little I was wearing.
“Allowed to?” I mused. “And if I’m not allowed to, who is going to?”
His eyes flickered to mine.
You?
The word lingered there, unspoken but screaming in the air around us.
The sound of someone talking outside the changing room reached through the fog, breaking the spell between us. It felt strangely like falling back from the edge of a precipice.
Brody sighed and stepped back. “Give me the name, Selena.”
I smoothed my buttoned shirt over my bra, straightened my shoulders and raised my chin, and tried to get a grip of the situation.
“Never.”