Chapter 12
SELENA
This is so embarrassing! Why am I even talking to him? I shouldn’t be talking to him!
Wait, why am I embarrassed?! There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.
“Yeah, I’m a virgin, what of it?” I snap.
He scratches the back of his neck, but doesn’t make a reply.
I was trying to be an adult and act like it doesn’t matter. Like sex—or not having it—wasn’t a big deal, but then his eyes went wide with shock and he says it like that?! Like it’s a dirty word, but not the good kind. The kind that makes you feel insignificantly small and ashamed.
“Forget it,” I mutter, turning on my heel to leave and swearing I will never, ever speak to him again. Why did I decide to confide in him in the first place? Wise man, my butt!
“Selena. Wait.”
Why does my name sound like that when he says it?! His voice, his tone, low, possessive, dangerous.
I spin in place and jab a finger in his chest.
“Don’t call me that!”
One side of his lips tilts into a crooked smile and—no, no way. I’m not falling for that. Not for the glint in his blue eyes or the tousled waves of dark hair falling over them or—oh shit. I don’t curse but this is definitely an ‘oh shit’ moment. Because he has a dimple in his left cheek!
Nuclear alarms go off in my head. How did I not remember this?!
He must see how freaked out I look because now he’s full on smiling and shit (yes, again). He has a dimple in his right cheek too! He has a pair of sexy, adorable dimples that I must have blocked out of my memory for my own sanity and which I am not going to pay any attention to. No. No, I am not.
My hand is twitching to get my phone and snap a pic because I’m sure if I told anyone that Grayson Rhodes has dimples no one would ever believe me. It’s such a rare sight, like a striped unicorn with a cotton candy pink mane or something.
I’ve never seen him smile like this. Or laugh either and now he’s doing both.
He’s drunk. Maybe I’m drunk too. Maybe I’m dreaming and none of this is real.
I pinch the side of his stomach and he yelps, “What was that for?” but he’s still smiling. There’s still two dimples right there. Taunting me.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you done?”
He clears his throat but he’s having a difficult time keeping a straight face. It’s really annoying how he looks even cuter when he smiles, which I’m sure he knows. It must be his secret weapon. When he unleashes that dimpled smile, women’s panties just drop. Ugh.
I don’t know why my mind has been going straight to the gutter lately. I’m not usually like this.
“Can I have the lighter, please?”
It takes him a second to remember that’s the reason we came out to his car.
“Sure,” he smirks, unlocking the door to get it.
He hands it over, but then seems to reconsider and holds it up high, way out of my reach.
“Why can’t I call you by your name?” he asks, looking all smug.
All I want to do is kiss his dumb face to wipe away that look. Wait, what, no! Why did I think that? My cheeks feel warm but I answer before I have more strange thoughts.
“You said it all weird, okay? So just don’t.“
Smooth, Selena.
“Weird, how?” he has the nerve to ask me while one side of his mouth quirks up. Then, he’s smiling again. His annoying dimples are right there!
“Can you stop that please?“
“Stop what?” His expression is all innocent, but I don’t buy it. He knows exactly what!
“Smiling like that!“
This is beyond silly. I’m being beyond silly. But, I can’t help it.
“So let me get this straight,” he smiles and flashes his obscenely adorable dimples at me. “I can’t use your name—”
“That’s correct.“
My face is a stoic mask of superior confidence. As if I know what in the world I’m talking about. I’m afraid he’ll be able to see right through me.
“—And I can’t smile either?“
“Exactly,” I nod, determined not to let my lips curve into any sort of amusement. “Now, give me the lighter.” I extend my hand to take it but he lifts it even higher.
I jump to reach for it. It’s funny how I don’t even come close. Why is he so freaking tall?!
“Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he teases and there’s something in the way he says it, the way his voice drops, that stops me in my tracks. We’re standing closer now.
He’s still smiling, dimples and all, when his gaze begins to travel up and down my body at a leisurely pace. Heat flares in his eyes and I have the desperate urge to close the distance between us.
“That’s all you got?”
His tone is a smoky whisper, playful and full of something I can’t name. Butterflies swirl in my stomach and there’s an unexpected throbbing between my legs. Thankfully he can’t see any of that, but for some reason my nipples have decided to be noticed and are poking through my tank top.
His blue eyes roam my chest and I wish he’d follow that same path with his hands. Or his mouth. Oh my god, what am I thinking?!
“You cold?”
No, I’m burning up. I don’t know why I haven’t burst into flames yet.
“A little,” I lie and watch him pull his hoodie off and over his head in one swift motion. Then he’s placing it over my head.
I’m too surprised to ask what he’s doing. Too confused to remember why we’re out here, alone.
I hate that his gray hoodie is big, warm, and cozy. I hate that it smells like him. Something clean yet spicy. Airy but with a hint of…of…I’m not sure, but I want to find out. I want to close my eyes and bury my face into the soft material.
“No one else gets to see how cold you are,” he states and I’m stunned, unable to form words or do anything until he smirks at me again. Then, I look away.
“Um, after my classes, I had a full practice that ran late,” I mumble.
“Then I rushed over to pick up the cake and the nice lady at the tiny bakery on Adams and Trinity stayed open for me—so I owe her. Then a cop pulled me over because he said I was going too fast and maybe I was, but I told him if he let me drop off my brother’s cake he could arrest me or whatever it is they do to people speeding, but he let me go with a warning.
And somewhere throughout all that I lost the lighter that I know I grabbed from my apartment in the morning. So call me whenever you want—”
“Whatever I want?“ His voice is low and husky and that throbbing between my legs intensifies.
“Why do you have to make it sound so dirty?!“ I cry, then clamp my mouth shut.
“Perhaps that’s simply how you want it to sound,” he counters.
“I don’t think so,” I argue, giving him the fakest fake smile I’ve got even though I’m blushing again. “Can I borrow the lighter, yes or no?” I ask, as I extend my right hand and wait. All the while I’m wondering why I’m still outside with him if I find him so annoying.