“Oh, I do,” he assures me, grinning from ear-to-ear, “especially right now.”
My brows dip. “Why now?”
He winks at me. “I’m here with you.”
I roll my eyes. “That was so cheesy.”
He nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
I roll my eyes again, but when he smiles at me again and my heart flutters, fear lashes through me. I don’t know if my nerves are from the kiss or if all the stress bearing down on me has turned me into a twitchy squirrel. But I don’t like being nervous around him, not when he’s the only person who calms me down.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, suddenly seeming apprehensive, too.
“Homework,” I lie. God, I suck.
The sunlight reflects in his eyes as he assesses me. “Are you sure? You seem … nervous.”
“You should know by now that I’m just a nervous person,” I remind him as we hop off the sidewalk to cross the street.
“Yeah, but I also know that, if anyone can calm you down, it’s me.” He grins proudly. “So what do I need to do?”
Kiss me again.
Touch me again.
Make me go back to the stars.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Tell me what you want to talk to me about,” I reply as we arrive at the entrance to the quaint coffee shop. “And then I have some stuff to talk to you about.”
His brow rises as he looks at me. “You do?”
I nod. “A lot of shit happened yesterday.” When his lips part, I place my finger over his lips like he did to me. “You get to talk first, and then I’ll go.”
He slowly nods with a puzzled, impish glint in his eyes. I soon find out where the look is stemming from as he nips my finger then backs away, leaving my jaw hanging to my knees.
When he reaches the door, he pulls it open and motions for me to go in first, bowing like a total weirdo. “My lady.”
That gets me to laugh.
He grins. “I knew that one would win you over.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the torrid emotions funneling around inside me. “You’re such a weirdo.” I enter the café, breathing in the delicious scent of coffee and baked goods.
He lets the door swing shut behind us. “Like you’re not.”
I get in line, looking over the menu on the marquee. “No, not at all. I’m the opposite of a weirdo.”
He moves closer, and I stiffen, conflicted, wanting, fearing. Want. Fear.
“Junior year at my end of the school year bash,” he whispers in my ear. “You spent the entire night pretending you were a wizard and casting magic spells on everyone.”
It takes me a moment to hear his words through the fogginess in my brain.
“I was drunk.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I quickly clear my throat. “Normally, I don’t do that kind of stuff.”
“The beginning of sophomore year,” he says. “You made me play dress up with all that weird steampunk shit you collect.”
“Hey, I don’t know why that makes me weird.” A hint of a smile rises on my lips. “You’re the one who played dress up.”
He lightly pinches my hip, and my body jolts, my back arching toward him and my ass brushing against his hips. Tension electrifies as we both freeze. Beck starts breathing loudly. Or maybe I do. It’s really hard to tell when we’re this close.
What the hell is happening? It’s like those kisses broke my ability to think clearly.
“What can I get you?” the cashier girl asks, dousing the moment.
I jump forward, taking a breath to settle my lunatic heart.
Dammit. I should’ve put a no touching rule on the list. But I really didn’t think things would be this bad between us. They never have been before. Then again, I’ve never grinded my hips against Beck until I came apart. Over and over and over again…
“Miss?” the cashier looks at me like I’m the weirdo Beck just accused me of being. “Are you going to order anything?”
I glance from the menu to her. “Um …”
“She’ll have a caramel latte.” Beck steps beside me, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. “And I’ll have a mocha cappuccino. And we’ll both have ham and turkey subs.”
I smile gratefully at him, and he throws me a wink before turning back to the cashier.
She smiles at Beck, twisting a strand of her highlighted hair around her finger, going all doe-eyed. “Do you want any cookies to go with that? They’re two for a dollar.”
Beck looks at me, seeming highly amused. “What do you think, princess? You want something sweet to nibble on?”
I battle the overwhelming urge to stare at his mouth again. “Sure.”