From the Jump(65)

“I was busy.” His assertion may be true, but it lacks conviction. He looks down at my hand like he wants to remove it, and I feel another surge of something that could either be embarrassment or anger. The difference between the two has blurred, melted together in the heat they’ve burned into my skin.

“I’d never try to seduce you,” I say sharply. “You’re my friend.”

“I know.” He holds his hands up at his sides as if in surrender, but I spot something in his face, some effort at restraint that makes me suspect he’s merely placating me.

“You’re not my type,” I insist.

“I know.”

He’s going distant. It’s as clear as if I were watching him evaporate into a blur of smoke right in front of me. His eyelids lower the slightest bit, like a curtain sliding closed. The tilt of his chin and the slight curl of his mouth turn him into a mildly amused spectator instead of a participant. The change is infuriating.

“You were holding my hand,” I say in an accusatory tone. “The whole way here, you were holding my hand. Why would you do that if you were so concerned I couldn’t keep them off of you?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says dispassionately.

“Excuse me?” My fingers curl into his shirt, and I’m not sure if they’re forming a fist or attempting to hold onto him so he doesn’t disappear entirely. He can’t disappear into a puff of smoke before I get the opportunity to eviscerate him. “I’m being ridiculous?”

“Yes.” Deiss’s eyes flash with annoyance, and suddenly he’s back, solid and present and leaning toward me with an intensity that throws me completely off balance. “Look at yourself. What are you doing right now?”

My head jerks back like I’ve been slapped. It feels like I have been.

“Right,” I say. “Because how dare I have a genuine response! Silly Liv. Don’t I know that I’m supposed to be too cool for that? I’m making everything uncomfortable. What a ridiculous way to behave.”

“I wasn’t talking about your behavior.” He looks so annoyed that I want to stomp on his foot just to give him something real to be annoyed by. “I was talking about the way you’ve added two and two together and gotten eight. Have a little self-awareness, Olivia. Do you really think I was worried about you coming on to me? Every man in that place would’ve set themselves on fire for just five minutes of attention from you.”

“They . . .” I trail off as my brain struggles to compute his implication. With a gentle tug, he pulls his shirt free of my grip.

“Every man,” I say, my voice coming out embarrassingly breathy, “except you.”

His eyes burn into mine, even as he eases back another step.

“I wanted to drag you under the stairs,” he says, his tone deceivingly casual, “and peel that leather off you with my teeth.”

My pulse speeds up, galloping like a wild horse, as the image explodes in my mind. His glorious mouth descending on my body. Rough stubble against soft skin. The silky slip of his tongue easing the sting. I feel every sensation like a tidal wave rolling through my belly.

“Why are you standing out here?” The words come from a distance behind us, jerking me from the fantasy like a splash of cold water. “Are we locked out?”

Deiss’s eyes have move past me. With a sharp inhale, I’m able to turn around, feigning the same indifference he’s so infuriatingly mastered. Our friends are coming down the sidewalk, Phoebe riding on Mac’s back with her arms slung around his neck. Simone is the one who’s asked the question, but Mac repeats it like a fact.

“You locked yourselves out?” He laughs, and Phoebe bites his ear. “Dibs on breaking a window!”

“But Liv lives with you now,” Simone says. “She’s the one who keeps us from doing stupid things like that.”

“We aren’t locked out,” Deiss says easily. “We just didn’t go inside yet because we were fighting.”

I gasp and widen my eyes, but he shrugs off my reproach.

“What did you do?” Phoebe and Mac ask the question in unison, only her accusation is directed at Deiss, while Mac’s clearly speaking to me. Simone, to my shock, has also turned to me in accusation.

My stomach tightens. People always take sides, even when they don’t have all the facts. Even when they’re supposed to be your friends.

“Liv is pissed at me,” Deiss says, “because I didn’t give that drummer her number when he asked me for it.”

“What is with those guys?” Mac asks before I can properly absorb Deiss’s words. His voice cracks with outrage. “That stupid surfer guitarist was all over Phoebe, too.”

“But Seth was smart enough to approach me directly,” Phoebe says smugly. She turns to me, leaning her cheek against Mac’s head. “We’re going out next week. Do you want to make it a double date with you and Brad?”

“You’re into that drummer?” Simone asks before I’ve answered Phoebe. “He was gorgeous.”

I don’t answer her, either. All I can do is stare at Deiss. “He really asked for my number? And you wouldn’t give it to him?”

“I believe that’s been established.” He doesn’t bother pretending to be apologetic.