As if she senses us talking about her, Maggie suddenly appears in front of us with her hands on her hips and determination in her eyes.
“The date for my New Year’s Eve party has been changed,” she says to me as Ayden and I slam to a halt in front of her. Then she grins in Ayden’s direction and not so discreetly pushes her chest out. I love the girl to death, but she really needs to stop drawing guys in with her breasts. “It’s going to be December thirtieth.”
“How can you have a New Year’s Eve party that’s not on December thirty-first?” Ayden’s smile fades. He’s unfriendly and cold to a lot of people, except me. For some reason, I’ve always been good at bringing out his inner sunshine. “It makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” She tucks her elbows inward to push her cleavage even higher. “A party’s a party, right?”
Ayden shrugs. “I guess. But technically your party is a New Year’s Eve Eve party.”
“Clever.” Maggie smiles then her gaze flicks to me, as if seeking some sort of confirmation that I’m okay with her trying to show Ayden her goodies. I’m not okay with it. At all. But I’m not about to get angry with her since I haven’t been that honest with what’s been going on with Ayden and me.
She searches my eyes then her posture relaxes and her cleavage sinks back into her shirt. “But, as clever as that is, I’m still calling it my New Year’s Eve party.” She points a finger between the two of us. “A party that you two better show up to.”
She reels around and shimmies her butt down the hallway, drawing in a lot of the male population around her. She instantly zeroes in on her next target, the varsity quarterback. Rolling her shoulders back, she approaches him with what she calls her “vixen swagger walk.”
“Man, she knows how to work those bad boys, doesn’t she?” I mutter, peeking down at my own breasts.
I’m barely a B cup, not that I care. Big breasts aren’t going to get me what I want in life, but I have wondered what it would be like to overly fill out my shirts.
“Work what?” Ayden glances confusedly at me.
I point back and forth between my breasts. “These bad boys.”
Even after being around my constant unfiltered mouth, Ayden still blinks in shock.
“Trust me, you could work yours, too, and get way more attention than she does.” His attention drops to my chest fleetingly then he looks away as his skin turns bright red.
My own skin warms as I recollect when he reached up my shirt and brushed his fingers across my nipple. The torrid sensations I felt that night were like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I wish you would do that again.
Touch me like that
In my car,
In my room,
In my bed.
Touch me, touch me, everywhere.
Instead of touching, Ayden and I silently head down the hallway with the buzzing of voices flowing around us. His palm dampens in mine or maybe mine does in his… It’s hard to tell. We’re tense, sexually frustrated as Maggie would put it.
“I’ll tell you what I know about Kale,” he unexpectedly sputters, breaking the tension between us. “But only on one condition.” He releases my hand to push the door open and moves aside to let me through.
“Okay, what’s the condition?” I step outside into the cool winter air, and goose bumps sprout across my skin.
Ayden lets go of the door then promptly returns his hand to mine, as if the ten second break from our flesh touching nearly drove him to a panic attack. My body, although cold, warms inside.
“That you never, ever repeat to Kale what I’m about to tell you,” Ayden says as we start down the sidewalk and through the people eating lunch around the front area of the school.
“Okay…” I stare up at him, squinting against the sunlight peeking through the cracks in the tree branches above our heads. “You’ve got me worried.”
“It’s not anything to worry about.” He grows quiet, spacing off as we hike across the freshly cut grass toward the parking lot. “But it’s private enough that I need you to pinkie swear on it.”
My lips part in mock shock, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Ayden Gregory, don’t you trust me?”
He stares up at the sky, stifling a smile. Eventually, his amusement gets the better of him, and he ends up grinning from ear to ear. He stops in the middle of the grass and raises his free hand with his pinkie hitched.
“Wow, where’s the trust, Shy Boy?” I give an exaggerated stomp of my foot then link my pinkie with his. “I promise that whatever you tell me will stay between us. But, just so you know, that’s always the case.”