The Complete Arrogant Series(59)

“I’m Liberty’s cousin,” she says, forgoing her name.

Smart girl.

I stack the deck of cards. “And I’m Liberty’s cousin’s boyfriend.”

She doesn’t shoot me a look or make a face. She owns it just as much as I do.

“Let’s get some fresh air.” I rise up and nod toward the balcony slider, and she follows.

We slip outside to a humble balcony with an iron railing, a grill, and a couple of plastic chairs with a blanket thrown over the back of one. A soft summer breeze whips her hair across her face.

“Hope this is better than Zion’s pathetic excuse for a dance.”

She turns to me, her creamy skin glowing against the moonlight. “This is perfect, Jensen. Really.”

My palms glide up and down her arms, warming her up and pulling her into my space. The scent of her shampoo is sharp against the tepid air, and it fills my lungs with each breath. Twinkling stars dotting a midnight sky is a million times better than pastel fucking pseudo-prom decorations.

“School starts in a month,” she says, pressing her cheek against my chest. Her arms slip under mine. Her father doesn’t know it yet, but she’s leaving the nest matter what. I’ll see to it personally, if I have to. They’re set to talk about college again next week, but something tells me he hasn’t changed his mind. “And then what happens?”

“I go to L.A.” I rest my chin on top of her head. “And you come with me.”

She’s silent.

“Because fuck if I can imagine walking away from you and never looking back.” It’s the closest thing to “I love you” I’ve ever said in my entire life.

Waverly lifts her face to mine, our mouths hanging in limbo as our eyes catch. “You know that’s not realistic.”

“Disagree.”

“I have a scholarship to Utah. I should go there.” Her eyes search mine, but for what, I’m not sure.

“Mark’s not going to let you,” I say. “You know that. He’s wants you to get married. You’re safer running off with me.”

She rakes her fingers through her hair. “I’ve been walking a straight line all summer. Going above and beyond. I’ve proven myself to him. He can’t deny it. He said we could talk about it next week. That’s a good sign.”

“I don’t trust him.” I unclench my fist long enough to brush the hair from her eyes. “He’s been too… happy lately. He’s been laying low. Off your case. It’s not like him. Something’s up.”

“You’re just being paranoid.”

I shake my head. “I’m telling you, something’s up.”

“He hasn’t brought up the arranged marriage thing since that night with Bruce Waterman.” She says it like it’s a good thing, but that’s what concerns me. “Maybe he’s changed his mind?”

“Okay, so let’s say he lets you go,” I say. “You don’t think when you’re all finished with school, he’s not going to try to marry you off to some polygamous asshole? I’m sure he’s been saving up your dowry since you were barely out of diapers.”

“We don’t do dowries.” She fights a smile. “If he lets me go away for school, that means he trusts my judgment. If he trusts my judgment, he’ll let me pick my own husband.”

“Do you realize how completely and utterly idiotic this conversation is right now? It’s not normal.”

“Nothing about my life has ever been normal, Jensen.” I pick up on the despondent quiver in her voice, getting the distinct urge to quell it with a kiss before the waterworks start. I press my lips against hers, lingering for a moment. “Still think you should come with me to L.A. I’ll take care of you, but, you know, not in the husband sort of way. More like the sexual sort of way.”

She slaps my chest with her fist and smiles. “Let’s just enjoy what we have right now, okay? A few more weeks of this.”

“And then what?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not your girlfriend; you’re not my boyfriend. It’s not like we’ll be breaking up.”

But it is. It’s exactly like that.

“Besides,” she adds, “we couldn’t be together, even if we wanted. We’re family.”

“Fuck, Waverly, you still believe all that eternally sealed bullshit?” My body heats, I feel her slipping away. “It’s not real. None of it. You know what is real?”

I press my mouth against hers once more, claiming her for what might be the very last time. With beer and rebellion on our tongues, our lips fuse. My hands cup her face, hungrily, refusing to let her go until I’m good and ready.