Not My Match (The Game Changers, #2)(40)

She moves from foot to foot. “Ah, it’s not much. I grabbed it when I picked up some clothes for Myrtle at this boutique downtown after class . . .” She stops as I quickly undo the paper.

“Giselle, baby,” I breathe, holding the carved stone butterfly in the palm of my hand. “It’s beautiful.”

She takes a step toward me and peers down at it. Delicate, with spread wings, the stone is soft and smooth, about an inch thick. “I saw the purple and blue colors mixed together, and it made me think of you. It’s a charm for strength, the lady said—you keep it close and rub when you need to feel centered.” She clears her throat. “You can put it on a desk or wherever, and when I’m out of your hair, you’ll remember tonight and not think I was too much of a pain in the ass.”

I close my fingers around it, rubbing my fingers over the surface. “I’ll keep it in my pocket every day.”

Her breath hitches. “You don’t have to—”

“You aren’t a pain in the ass.”

“Give me time.”

I stick my hand in my pocket, curling around the stone. “My guess is your apartment isn’t going to be livable for weeks. The basement has structural damage. You’re about to start fall semester, and you don’t need the extra hassle of searching for an apartment. Stay as long as you want. Be my real roommate.”

What the hell am I saying?

She licks her lips. “My family and our friends might think we’re, you know, a thing . . .”

“We’ll tell them we’re not.”

“Because we aren’t,” she says on a sigh.

“Just . . . stay.”

Stay, stay, stay . . . the word bangs around in my head, ping-ponging around the blurry childhood memories of my mother driving away, lingering visions of every woman after that slamming a door and telling me goodbye.

I’m not deluded. Part of me knows I’m teetering close to a heady infatuation with Giselle, throwing my inhibitions aside and devouring her piece by piece. Then she’ll wake up and see I’m not good enough, just like Hannah did. Unease pricks, making me itch, and I want to peel the sensation right off my skin.

“We need rules, though.”

She swallows. “Yeah?”

My hands tighten at my sides. Just say it, just say it . . .

“I’m going to be up front. I find you . . . attractive,” I say gruffly.

“What a nightmare,” she replies dryly, eyes gleaming. “Devon thinks the nerd girl is cute.”

“Shush. You’re gorgeous, okay? Your ass is fine; your tits are small . . . ,” I tease, “but perfect, and when you walk in a room, men look. They look real hard, Giselle—even me—and you’re not even paying attention.”

“Oh, I’m catching a clue.”

I don’t touch that remark. “All I’m saying is we keep our hands to ourselves. We’re friends, and we don’t want to ruin that. Plus, Jack . . .”

“Meh, we’d probably never mesh in bed anyway.”

Unbidden, my hands clench. She went there? I take a breath. Steady now . . . “Really? I can assure you, fucking me would be the highlight of your damn year—”

“Promises you don’t plan on proving.” She pats me on the arm, then stops. “Oh wait, can I touch you there?” Her lips curl.

I shake my head, reaching for exasperation but finding nothing but bolts of heat at the sight of her. This is an asinine idea, asking her to stay, but . . .

“Don’t split hairs with me, smarty-pants.”

“Uh-huh. So what’s off the table?” She steps in closer, her arms curling around my neck. Fire licks up my skin, and I suck in a gasp of air. What is she doing?

“Giselle—”

“I mean, sex is a no-no,” she murmurs. “You’ve laid down the law, Sheriff, but what about first base? You already did that. You kissed me the night of the fire—and gotta say, it wasn’t the best. We can’t let it stand. Plus, you told me if I brought Red back safe, you’d tell me why you kissed me.”

She smells fucking good, and I swallow down the thickness in my throat, my hands of their own volition reaching up and cupping her face. “Because I was angry, and it felt . . . right,” I admit. “Was it that bad?”

“Just the first time I’ve been kissed in five months, only I didn’t get any tongue.” She plays with a piece of my hair, twisting it around her finger. “I propose we get a real kiss in and call it quits—after all, you let some chick kiss your neck tonight, so they don’t mean much to you. I’m sure there wouldn’t be a spark anyway, but once it’s out of the way, we’ll know for certain there’s no zing. Truly, I need it for testing purposes. I plan on kissing Mike Millington at my party, and it would be prudent to have yours as a control to compare—”

Anger zips over me. “I want to meet this motherfucker. No one’s getting near you if he doesn’t pass my test.”

“I do love it when you get all growly. What kind of test?” She presses her lips against my cheek, right at the corner of my mouth. It’s not sexy or a come-on but gentle and teasing.

Regardless. My brain stops. Literally stops functioning.

Fuck, fuck, she feels so good . . .