Unspoken(32)
Unsure, I nibbled on my lip. I already felt intoxicated, and I wanted to avoid doing something crazy, like attacking Bo in the bar. “How about water?”
He slapped a hand on the table and said, “I’ll be right back.” He lifted me off his lap, stepped aside, and set me back down, like I weighed only two ounces. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the show of strength wasn’t a total turn-on. God, everything about him was a turn-on. I needed to put some space between us. With concerted effort, I dragged my gaze from Bo’s back as it disappeared into the crowd. I turned to see Finn wiggle his eyebrows at me suggestively.
“Finn O’Malley is a really Irish name.” I looked over his dark hair and creamy, freckle-free complexion.
“I’m actually more Welsh than Irish, which accounts for the black hair, but I still have the propensity to burn if I’m outdoors for more than five minutes. But I do have these vampiric good looks.” He waved his hand down his fit body, the tight shirt showing how nice the goods would be without the cotton covering.
“So why would your party be better than a house party over at Central? Lots of wild shit goes down there.” When I first got to campus, I spent three nights a week partying hardcore with Ellie. There was everything from three-story beer bongs to human chess games. We came home smelling like we had bathed in the refuse at a brewery.
“I like to think we have a more elevated form of bacchanalia,” Finn quipped. “You should come see for yourself.”
“What special events will occur if I do?” I smiled. The banter with Finn was easy and nonthreatening.
“Me, of course. Once you’ve seen my delectable form in my natural habitat, every other guy will look dull and unformed to you.” Bo’s hand appeared heavily on Finn’s shoulder. “Especially this guy.”
“Are you poaching on my territory?” Bo squeezed Finn’s shoulder.
Finn leaned toward me. “Bo’s still stuck on level three of the evolutionary scale.”
“I have biology with him three times a week. I know this.”
Finn grabbed the pool cue Bo was holding. “I’m just keeping your seat warm.”
Bo had apparently had enough of this banter because he shoved Finn off toward the pool table and handed me the water he’d fetched for me. He sat down in the recently vacated seat and placed one arm across the table. The way he positioned his body, I could barely see the rest of the bar. He had, effectively, culled me from the herd.
Chapter Ten
BO
AM LOOKED READY TO BOLT, and while I appreciated Finn keeping her occupied, something rebelled in me when I saw the easy banter between the two. Finn would never break the bro code, so it was ridiculous to feel like I needed to piss a circle around her. But I wanted to, and the squeeze on Finn’s shoulder might have been overly tight. In biology, I felt like I had AM to myself, all cozy in the front at our end of the table. But unlike my previous interactions with the opposite sex, I felt uncertain about how to approach AM without her thinking I just wanted sex. Because I did want sex, but I was pretty sure I wanted more than that. How much more, though, was a mystery to even me.
“Did you enjoy it?” I leaned my elbow on the table so that AM could see only me. Given our closeness, I was glad I took the time to take a sink bath. I didn’t want to drip sweat or blood on her while trying to convince her I was worth her time.
She sucked in her lower lip, and I had to grit my teeth to keep a groan from escaping. Was there any non-crass way to tell her I could suck on that for her? Probably not. It was a good thing she wasn’t still on my lap or she’d realize that my mind wasn’t on what she thought of the fight but on how I’d like to test out the theory of how she’d look in my bed, her brown eyes heavy lidded with after sex happiness and her chocolate-colored hair in a tangle from my fingers. I tightened the grip on my beer bottle and drained it.
“It was exciting. How’d you get started?”
That was a loaded question and not one I was ready to answer truthfully, so I lied and said, “When I met Noah in seventh grade.”
“This should be good,” she said, propping her elbow on the table. She rested her head on a bent hand and looked at me as if the whole world was centered right in front of her. I felt something shoot through my body and this time it wasn’t arousal. I knew what it felt like to get hard. This was different, better than ordinary sexual excitement. Her concentrated gaze made me feel not just wanted, but, well, good. Somehow I knew if I screwed this up with AM, I’d regret it forever. But she had to know me and what I was made of, so I took a deep breath and began to tell her about the first of my flaws.