Glitch (Next Level #1)(16)

Which is about to change.

I plan to spend as much time with Ara as I can. All this food could easily be dinner for us for a week. Or she could eat it all herself, which would make me twice as happy, because the thought of her going all day with no food doesn’t sit well with me.

She’s got a gorgeous body, and someone needs to take care of it.

I volunteer.

She throws a Skittle at my head, snapping me out of my glitchy-thoughts.

“One,” I warn, hoping she catches the humor in my deep tone. “You’ve just earned one.”

“One what?”

“Fuck around and find out.”

Her smile matches mine. It almost hurts my cheeks. God, this woman is fun.

“Oh, let’s not stop at one then.” She plucks a strawberry out of the box and throws it at me. “Two.” She tosses a grape at me next, and it bounces off my chest. “Three.”

I love her. I love her. I love her.

Ara reaches for an apple and rears it back like a baseball. I stand there and wait for it, elated that she’s so fiery. “Nah. I’m not bruising it just for a spanking.”

She knows what the counts are for. Fuck. Me. This woman is perfect.

Ara puts the honeycrisp back and grabs the baguette again, pitching it at me like a javelin.

I catch it with ease and toss it over my shoulder. I have no clue where it lands. Don’t care. All that matters is the beauty in front of me, pouring more candy in her mouth.

I close the space between us. Her lips are wet, breath sticky sweet, cheeks bright pink like her hair. I want to say a million things to her. Confess shit. Drop to my knees, lift her dress, and seal my mouth to her pussy and make her scream my name.

I can see her arousal. She wants me as bad as I want her.

So why am I hesitating?

Maybe it’s the fact that her hand is between us, pressing against my pounding heart, holding me back a little.

“I…” She suddenly pales.

Taking the Skittles away, I place them on the counter while keeping my gaze locked on hers. “You?”

“This is not a rebound.”

I arch an eyebrow. “It isn’t?”

“No.”

I can feel the heat radiating off her palm. When she steps back from me, my heart falls to my feet. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Ara adamantly shakes her head, easing the tightness that’s formed in my gut. “I just…” She looks away from me, casting her gaze to the floor. “I for real have no clue why I even just said that. It just flew out of my mouth.”

“It’s okay.” But there’s a reason she blurted it, and I want to know why. “Are you and Jason really over this time? For good?” I’ve lost track of how many times they’ve broken up. It was the rockiest relationship, and it never made sense to me. You either work or you don’t. If you work, enjoy it for however long it lasts. If you don’t work, move on.

Ara and Jason would break up, get back together. Break up, get back together. It was frustrating as Hell, especially since I didn’t think she liked him all that much to begin with. Then again, we didn’t discuss super personal shit on Discord, and I never pried.

“Oh, I’m over him. I’m soooo over him.” Ara’s voice is shaky. I don’t like it.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Then why bring this up? “I feel like I’m missing something here, Ara.” She’s so flustered, I wish I hadn’t pushed it. I back away a little bit and lean casually against her wall, so she doesn’t feel trapped. “He kicked your computer, didn’t he?”

Her cheeks blaze. Her eyes fill with tears.

“He wasn’t a good boyfriend,” she says quietly. “But it was partly my fault.”

Not sure what that means, so I tread carefully. “Under no circumstances should someone destroy your things, Ara. I don’t give a shit what you think you did to deserve it.”

“He was really jealous.” Ara tucks her hair behind her ears. “All the time.”

“Of?”

“You.”

My heart stops. “Excuse me?”

“I… I’m… he knew I gamed with you guys whenever I could. But I only do it because I like our conversations on Discord.”

Our bland, generic, safe conversations. I swear the air evaporates from my lungs.

“He’d get jealous if I paid more attention to you guys than him. Between gaming with you and spending all my time in my studio, he pitched a fit one night and yelled about how he wants more from me. I didn’t want to give him more. He took it out on my computer. Which is better than trashing my studio, I guess, but—”

I’m so furious I see red. “Did he ever lay a hand on you?”

“No.”

I work really fucking hard to keep my tone calm and soft. Then I close some distance between us. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She’s not lying. I can feel it. “He just started to get super obsessive. The more I worked or did things for myself, the needier he got. I couldn’t stand it. When he broke my computer, that was the last straw. It was the first and only time he was violent around me, and I didn’t stick around to give him a chance to escalate.”