Unspoken(51)

“Why does it matter to you?” AM asked softly, her head bent so I couldn’t see her eyes.

“It matters.” I replied firmly. AM wasn’t weak, but she needed me. Or maybe I needed her. I felt boxed in here at Central, like I was living in one of those tiny houses Finn was flipping. Maybe because I recognized something of myself in AM, I felt like I could relax with her. I wanted to spend more time with her, and yes, if I was honest, I wanted to spend time inside of her.

As if my internal intentions had shouted to her, AM’s eyes shot toward mine. Whatever showed through my eyes made her flush, color blossoming in her cheeks like someone took a brush and painted it on. But she didn’t look away. Our verbal confidences had been personal, but they were nothing like the look we were exchanging. The clatter of the café around us diminished. I could see the pulse in her smooth, pale neck start to pump faster. I understood the vampiric instinct here. Bite and mark. Bite and mark.

There was no blood to rush to my cheeks. It was all lower now, much, much lower. I could hear my own breath turn harsh, like I’d run several miles at top speed. As one, we stood to get the hell out of the restaurant. AM might be running to get away from me, but I was leaving quickly because I was afraid I was going to jump across the table and start mauling her.

The cold outdoor air cleared my head momentarily as I held the door for AnnMarie to exit, but her body brushed mine and I felt all my muscles strain toward more contact. Down, I commanded, and I could feel my muscles bunch at the effort of not grabbing her. I wanted her. She wanted me. Now I just had to figure out how to get her to admit the latter and accept the former.





Chapter Sixteen



AM

“IT’S ME.” I HEARD SASHA’S muffled voice at the door.

“The Garden is having an underwear party Wednesday night,” Sasha announced, flopping onto our sofa. The news made both Ellie and me perk up.

“Open?” I asked.

“No, but I have four invites. Want two?” She waved two pieces of beige cardstock in front of us. Ellie snatched them out of her hand before they could make a return trip past our faces.

Gleefully, Ellie waved them above her head with a triumphant, “Yes!”

Sasha leaned toward Ellie. “I hear you’re one of us now.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Creeper McDouche the third sure has a big mouth.”

“Big mouth, small dick.” I offered Sasha a cup of hot cocoa, which she took with a grateful smile.

“I wouldn’t know, but that makes sense,” Sasha replied, taking a sip of the cocoa. Waving her cup in the air, she said, “You know I only come over here for this.”

“If all it takes is peppermint hot cocoa to get tickets to the Garden so we can ogle hot gay guys in their underwear, I can deal,” I joked and handed another cup to Ellie. Settling in between the two on the sofa, I leaned over to look at the details on the invitation.

“Who’re you taking? Victoria?”

Sasha made a face. “No, she’s being too hormonal. Last week she accused me of being too aloof because I didn’t want to snuggle while we watched The Bachelor.”

“I don’t get why you watch that show.” I shook my head.

“AM.” Sasha heaved a huge sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you? There are hot, dumb women on that show. They’re just my type.”

“I agree that there are hot and dumb women on the show. I don’t agree that that’s your type,” I argued. “Victoria’s premed!”

“I know, and we aren’t together, are we?” Sasha countered. “Speaking of big mouths and new people, the Central rumor mill has placed you in the same proximity as one notorious Bo Randolph. What happened to your No Central Guys Ever motto?”

It was my turn to make a face. “He’s just my lab partner.”

Sasha made a humming noise and took a sip of her cocoa. At my glare, she fessed up. “Martin Sommersby was at Palmer’s Deli with his boyfriend and saw the two of you in a serious discussion. He said your faces were this far apart”—she held up her thumb and forefinger to display a minuscule distance—“and that the sexual tension was so thick it was like a force field.”

With my cheeks burning, I replied as nonchalantly as possible, “We were a polite table distance apart.”

“Good thing you’re the math major,” Sasha said to Ellie, “because this chick has major problems with measurement.”

“Measuring isn’t really a math thing,” Ellie said mildly, having my back as always.

“Come on,” Sasha cajoled. “Bo Randolph is interesting, even to this lesbian.” She paused. “Maybe to all lesbians. He should be my plus one. It’d drive Victoria nuts.”