Chapter Eleven
Todd
I try to refocus on the conversation I’m having after seeing Justin lead Taylor into his bedroom, but I can’t.
My eyes keep flicking to the door, my chest aching as I crush the nearly empty beer can in my hand.
Whatever liquid’s left in it squirts out, spraying me, and I’m forced into the kitchen to clean myself up.
I’m walking back into the living room when I catch sight of her red curls bouncing, and I immediately chase after her.
“Taylor! Taylor, wait up!”
She stops abruptly, as if just realizing she had nowhere to go.
“What just happened?” I jog to catch up to her. “Did . . . did Justin try something with you?”
“No—Yes . . . I mean, I don’t know.” She whips around to face me. “And that’s the problem, I don’t know.”
My breath gets caught in my throat. I’ve known for ages that Taylor is gorgeous, but tonight she’s reached a whole new level.
Her legs are only covered by knee-high boots and short black shorts that cling to her thighs, and I can’t help but imagine them wrapped around my waist. If that isn’t enough, the tank top—if it could even be called that—is so tight it’s like a second skin, basically pushing her tits up to her chin.
I can feel myself hardening as my eyes finish their ascent, but when I notice her flushed cheeks and chapped lips I’m filled with a whole different kind of heat.
“Let’s practice.”
I blink, trying to regain my bearings. “Huh?”
“Practice—you know, like you said, what’s an orgasm between friends? I just left the first guy who ever invited me to his bedroom because I didn’t know what to do!”
“Right—practice . . .”
“You still want to, right?”
God, did I, but I didn’t just want it to be practice—I wanted it to be forever. “Yeah . . . I just don’t know how Chase will react to us practicing in his bedroom.”
Her lips part, at first uncertain, and then a real smile finally breaks through. The effect it has on me is immediate—my pulse pounds in my neck, my ears burn, and I have to widen my stance to steady myself because I’m not used to wanting something so badly or so plainly.
No qualifiers.
No excuses.
No, just as friends, even if I know that’s my last line of defense.
Taylor’s smile always makes it hard to breathe, but tonight it’s a full-on gut punch.
I realize I’m staring, so I look away, rubbing the back of my neck.
The silence between us isn’t awkward, not exactly, but it’s charged in a way that makes my skin itch with anticipation.
I’m trying to come up with a cool, self-deprecating retort when I notice her shivering a little, bare legs goose-pimpled in the cool February air.
“So . . . uh, this . . .” I gesture to her outfit. “Is it retaliation for Chase’s comment?”
“Yeah . . .” She sits on a curb, and I join her. “You think the way I look has kept me from dating?”
“I thought you said it was because you haven’t had the time?”
She wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “That’s what I thought, but now Chase has me thinking . . .”
“Listen, I don’t know why you’ve never dated or had a boyfriend, but I can promise you it has nothing to do with your looks.”
She levels her gaze on me, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and I have to resist the urge to kiss her.
My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for her hair, the bare skin of her thigh, but I keep my hands jammed in my hoodie pouch, nails digging crescent moons into my palms. She shifts on the curb, her boots scraping against the concrete, and for a brief moment the world is suspended in the hush between what’s said and what’s desperately unsaid.
I clear my throat. “You want to go back inside or stay out here a little longer?”
She puts her head back down. “Let’s just stay here.”
So we do.