Punk 57(65)

My bottom lip shakes and tears fill my eyes. But I tense every muscle in my body, trying not to let him see. Stuck-up. Average.

Boring.

“Tell me you’re jealous,” he demands.

“If it doesn’t bother me, why would I be jealous?”

He leans closer, and I can feel his body at my back and his lips next to my ear. “Tell me you’re trying not to think about how much I loved fucking her. Tell me something true, and I’ll let you leave.”

Something true? Tell him what? What does he want to hear? That this hurts? That I loved kissing him the last time we were in here and every time after that? That I don’t want anyone touching him? Screw him. I’m not saying any of that shit.

“You can’t, can you?” His voice is quiet and almost sad. “You can’t talk to me.”

And then I watch through blurry eyes as he leans up and exhales on the window in front of me, fogging it up to draw a word with his finger.

FEAR.

I shake my head.

Alone, Empty, Fraud, Shame, Fear… What is he doing? What does that mean? A tear spills over, and I growl out a breath, wiping the word off the window.

“You’re a prick. Just stay away from me.”

I go to open the door, but he grabs my hand.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

I freeze, turning my head just an inch. What?

“I lied,” he tells me. “I asked her out for food yesterday to make you jealous, and today, when she insinuated shit that didn’t happen, I let her. But I didn’t touch her.”

The heat of his breath hits my neck, and I can tell his head is bent to my hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want anyone else. I only think about you.” He pauses, his voice shaky. “I think about you all the time, Ryen.”

Me.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I had to push you. I wanted to know.”

I turn my head, glaring at him through my tears. “You didn’t touch her?”

He shakes his head.

I swing my hand to hit him, but he grabs it and pulls me into his lap, taking my face in his hands. “I had every right to,” he bites out, “especially since you’re still letting Fuckface drool all over you while making me hard as a rock for a damn week.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying not to cry. I never cry in front of them.

“You turn me on.” He cups my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and a tear off my cheek. “God, you turn me on. You’re driving me crazy. I want you to need my hands on you. Do you?”

I hold his eyes, seeing the pleading in his. Seeing, for the first time, the need. He’s desperate to hear me say it.

And I know right then and there I want to be the only girl he ever looks at like that.

“You’re not boring,” he says softly. “You’re not average, and you’re not stuck-up. You piss me off, but you excite me.”

His face is shrouded in shadow, but I can feel him everywhere. He puts his forehead to mine, his whisper thick and heavy, spinning like a cyclone inside me. “They don’t get you and me. I know that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re perfect. I’m never in line. You’re beautiful, and I’m bad, right?”

His breath hits my lips, and I reach up and touch his hand on my face, sliding my cold fingers between his warm ones.

“They’ll never matter to us, Ryen. No one knows how this feels.”

Tears ache behind my eyes, and I breathe hard, giving into it. I slide my thigh over his lap and straddle him. I fist his T-shirt, our lips inches from each other. “If you touched her,” I cry softly, “it’s not going to be pretty.”

He nods. “I know. I’ll keep the knife in here for you.”

I laugh and kiss him, his hands falling to my hips as I press my body closer. I hold the back of his neck as I deepen the kiss, the heat of his mouth sinking to the end of every limb in my body.

But I pull away, turning my head toward the front windshield. Shit. People walk about, and I can see a couple guys in the car ahead of us, as well as a couple next to us.

Masen buries his lips in my neck, kissing and biting. “The windows are blacked out,” he mumbles against my skin. “So tinted it’s illegal.”

I turn back to him and dive into his mouth again, hearing their music and laughter only feet away, all around us, and not giving a shit. I catch a glimpse of someone passing by the truck, and I let out a moan.

He moves from my mouth to my neck again, getting greedy, and I close my eyes, holding onto him.

Coming up, he cups my face again, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Tell me something true.”