Hostile(22)

His lips turn up slightly in a smile, but he doesn’t look at me. “So . . . you see what I mean? I have no label.”

“That’s probably not true.” I lean my head back against my own headrest and look out the front window. “There are a lot of labels for sexuality. Maybe you’re pansexual. Or bisexual.”

“I’ve never been attracted to anyone else. It makes no sense.”

“Demi. Ace. Gay. Late bloomer. Does it matter?”

His head snaps in my direction now as he sits up straight, and I do the same to look him in the eye. “Of course, it matters. I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re Rhett.” I point to him, completely serious. “Moody asshole, decent artist, really good kisser. Rhett.”

He looks like he’s partially annoyed and amused by my answer, but he doesn’t snap at me like I thought he would. Instead, he seems to be thinking it over before he huffs, grabbing the handle and pushing the door to the car open, still holding my gaze. “Fine. We can be friends.”

I grin. “Friends who kiss?”

He shakes his head at me, but oh my god, he’s actually smiling as he climbs out of my car. “Maybe. Let’s just play it by ear, okay?”

I nod way too eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, still wearing that beautiful smile when he closes the door and salutes me with his middle finger before I pull away from his place.

Friends who maybe kiss.

I can definitely deal with that.





SIXTEEN





He cashed in on the new friend thing pretty fast. I wish I could say I’m annoyed he’s sitting on my couch the very next day, but I’m not. Not at all. He had basketball practice after school but came right over afterward. He must have showered at school because his hair is still damp, and he’s dressed in joggers and a school tee. My heart is racing in my chest merely because of his close proximity.

We haven’t done anything but sit here, mindlessly watching television together. Although, my body is on high alert, fully aware of my insane attraction to this pain in the ass who won’t leave me alone.

Who I don’t want to leave me alone, if I’m honest with myself.

Because I’ve never felt this way before. Not ever. Fletcher would talk about pretty girls around me, and Bree would talk about celebrities she found hot, and I would listen to them, thinking I was a robot or something. I mean, yeah, I’d think whoever they were talking about was attractive, but it wasn’t this searing—nearly scorching—feeling I have when my lips touched Grayson’s.

When I look at him, that’s all I can think about. Making it happen again and again. Feeling my body light up, every nerve coming alive inside me. And that’s exactly what he’s done to me. He brought me to life.

I’d be lying if I said not having a specific label for what I am is driving me insane. If I were pansexual or bisexual or demi, wouldn’t I have kissed Bree back? I love everything about her. And she’s beautiful. But no—the one person on this earth who makes my pulse race and my dick unbelievably hard—is the cocky, privileged, super-rich, jock beside me.

“What happened with you and Bree?”

See what I mean about a pain in the ass? Who the hell just blurts out questions like that?

I turn my head with a deep sigh and look at Grayson, who’s made himself comfortable, kicking his shoes off and stretching is long legs out in front of him. “Nothing happened with Bree. I already told you that.”

Please drop it.

Things are getting better with Bree—I did sit with her at lunch today—but it’s still strained, and it kills me.

“Something happened though. Bree, Fletcher, and you were inseparable, but things are weird lately.”

“And you only know this because you’re an insane stalker.” My voice is more playful than annoyed, and that frustrates me. I used to be so good at being annoyed with him.

He laughs, taking a handful of the popcorn between us and shoving it into his mouth, chewing, and then, of course, opening his big mouth again. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can.”

I shift uncomfortably in my spot on the couch because I don’t think I really can without betraying Bree, and I’m not doing that. “Nothing happened between us. I told you. I haven’t been attracted to anyone before . . .” The you at the end of that sentence is left unsaid, but he heard it anyway because he’s grinning.

And I feel him analyzing every single part of that sentence. “Right. So, she’s into you, and you weren’t into her.”

I don’t answer, which he takes as an answer. “Please leave Bree out of our conversations, okay? I really will kill you if I have to.”

“But you don’t want to.” He’s smiling even bigger now. The fucker. “That’s so sweet.”

I move the bowl of popcorn from between us to the coffee table and then turn to face him. “Then, let’s talk about something that makes you uncomfortable instead.”

Now, he actually looks nervous. Interesting. I like that he’s not totally unflappable. “Let’s not.” He turns to face me. “We could work on being kissing friends again.” He waggles his eyebrows at me in a ridiculous fashion. Seriously? This is the one person I’m attracted to?