Talon chuffs through his nose. “Pretty sure my mom hasn’t felt a damn thing in at least fifteen years. Woman’s got a whole cabinet full of shit that helps her not be sad.”
He’s quiet for a second, contemplative almost.
And then the door behind us creaks open.
The footsteps that follow are lighter. I don’t have to turn around to know it isn’t one of his linebacker buddies this time.
“Talon? Oh my God! Hey,” a girl says. He turns to face her. I stare ahead as her over-the-top energy invades the crisp night air. “Coley said I’d find you out here. You should come in and do a shot with me for old times’ sake!”
From my periphery, I see her manicured hand curl around his rounded shoulder as she crouches down.
The silence between the two of them is cringeworthy—at least for her—and I can almost feel her flittering glittery mood fading in real time.
“Y … your friend can come too?” she offers, voice broken and confidence dashed.
“I’m good,” I say, keeping my attention on the blackness ahead.
“Yeah, I’m good too,” Talon says.
“You sure?” the girl asks.
The weight of Talon’s attention blankets me. “Positive.”
Without saying another word the girl traipses inside, her heels clunking across the wobbly deck boards. The door creaks open and slams a second later. I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” I tell him.
He scoffs, taking a sip of his beer.
“These are your glory days,” I add. “You should enjoy them. Take full advantage. You shouldn’t be pretending to be annoyed by all this attention all because you’re trying to impress some girl who doesn’t even want to be impressed.”
“Not trying to impress you.”
“Bullshit,” I say, laughing. “You’re a liar.”
“All right.” He nudges his shoulder against mine. “Maybe I am. Just a little.”
“Well it ends here, tonight,” I say.
“Just like that?” he asks. “And just because you say it does?”
“Pretty much.” I stand, stretching my legs. A small shiver works its way through me and from here, the house looks warm and glowing and a million times more inviting than it did before.
Talon rises, towering over me with his eyes locked on mine. “Why do you hate me, Irie?”
“Just because you’re not my type and I don’t want to date you doesn’t mean that I hate you, Talon. I don’t even know you—how can I hate someone I don’t know?”
“How do you know I’m not your type if you won’t take the time to get to know me?” he asks.
Fair enough. “Maybe I don’t know you, but I know enough about you to know you’re not my type.”
“Fuck types.”
“Says the guy who’s fucked half the school.” I fold my arms and glance down. That was a little harsh even if it’s true.
“That’s what you think?” he asks.
I challenge myself to meet his accusatory stare, to own my stance. “I told you earlier … you have a reputation. I’ve heard girls talk about hooking up with you. I’ve heard about the way you treat anyone who so much as thinks they might have a chance with you. Forgive me if I’m trying to steer clear of your warpath.”
“Irie, you are the reason for that warpath,” he says, his tone callous and his jaw flexing.
“So I’m supposed to be flattered? You treat other girls like crap because they’re not me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“You’re oversimplifying.”
“Am I though?” I angle my head to the side, my mouth twisted as I fight a smirk. Maybe I’m flirting. Maybe I’m also making a point.
Talon is looking at me like he’s two seconds from devouring me—my mouth specifically. His tongue wets his full lips and his left hand tightens at his sides, like he has to refrain from allowing himself to touch me.
There’s a lot of clout standing before me.
An insane amount of restraint.
He’s mere inches from the only thing he wants—the only conquest he can’t have—and it’s physically torturing him.
To wield this kind of control over someone so powerful is a sensation unlike any I’ve experienced before … and in an unexpected turn of events, my nipples harden, my sex tingles, and my lips swell with a curious ache.
In my defense, I’m not normally aroused by torturing people.
In his defense, he’s not normally used to reoccurring rejection.
This is quite the standoff we have going.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I look him up and down. “In.”
“You cold?”
He’s standing here in a gray V-neck t-shirt and ripped jeans. He has nothing to offer me but his arms and as cold as it is tonight, it’s tempting.
But I won’t let it get to that.
I climb the top stair step and make my way across the deck, walking backwards as my hands clasp. “Go have fun, Talon. It’s a Saturday night. Do some body shots. Find a pretty little sorority girl and give her a night to remember. You’re wasting your time with me.”