The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(56)

“No,” I mutter.

“Okay.”

I lie back and sprawl out on the bed.

She lies down next to me, and my breath stutters in my chest. She’s pushing me, pushing me…

We both stare at the ceiling of my room, which is pretty damn unremarkable. But it is clean.

And I’m not looking at her.

Because it’s dangerous.

Winning.

She props her arms behind her head. “Since you brought up sex—”

“Hello, it’s the topic of our paper—”

“—have you thought about us?” She pauses. “It’s just…that day in the kitchen was intense, right? Did I dream that?”

Damn. She went there.

“Never thought of us together,” I lie to the ceiling.

There’s a pause. “Oh. Well. That’s good. We’re total opposites.”

Are we?

I have my doubts. We’re both a little rudderless, both of us on the cusp of an uncertain future. She’s random as hell. So am I. She looks at people like she needs them, like she cares, and I hope I do too.

I turn my head and gaze at her. There’s a foot between us, but it feels like less. She’s gazing at me, a glint in her eye, and I wonder how long that’s been going on.

“You put on fresh lipstick,” I say softly. My eyes linger on her mouth, that full bottom lip, the little V in the upper part. Deep red. Soft.

I want to crush it.

“So what?” she asks.

“To come over here. To see me.”

“To help you. I didn’t put it on for you.”

“You looked to the left when you said that. That’s your tell when you lie. FYI, people generally look to the left when they lie.”

She props her head up with her palm. “Don’t comment on my lipstick—unless you plan on kissing me. It’s a rule. I just made it.”

I ease up and prop my head up like she did. “Serious talk: I guess we need rules. No kissing. We both know what will happen if I kiss you.”

“Hold on. You said you’d never thought about it.”

“I’m a dude—now I’m thinking about it.”

She curls her lips. “Huh. I can guess what would happen. You’d get grossed out and puke or die from the poison on my tongue. I’d faint from bliss because you are so awesome. Right?”

“If you’re trying to hit on me, mentioning puke is not the way to go—”

“Like I’d hit on you! Please. You’re the last man on earth I’d ever consider—”

“As I was saying, if we kissed, it would lead to us doing more, and that can never happen…” My voice trails off.

Her eyes search mine. “Donovan is your friend.”

“Not like Crew and Hollis and Benji, but yeah. We pledged together. He was there for me when one of the other pledges slept with my girlfriend. He supported me in getting him kicked out. We’ve spent over three years hanging out together as brothers.”

“He broke up with me in a horrible way,” she says with a defiant tilt of her chin.

“It just happened, and you’re hurting. Right now, you want to lash out at him, and I get that—I would too—but you can’t use me.”

“Jesus, get over yourself. I wasn’t going to! I made one little comment and you can’t let it go.” She jumps up off the bed and prowls around my room. She picks up the picture of my family and sighs. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, then heads to the closet, opens it, and gapes. I don’t even try to stop her. It’s not that bad.

“What are you thinking?” I ask as she walks back to the end of the bed.

“What I think, what I think…hmmm, you really want to know?”

“Yeah?” I say uneasily. I know I’m saying all the wrong shit, but I can’t seem to stop. Why did I bring up her lipstick? Why did I insinuate that she was hitting on me?

It’s me. Me. I’m poking the tiger, seeing where she is…

A hesitant expression crosses her face. “I’m not sure you can handle it. I’m not sure my ego can.”

“You can’t be vague like that. I think we’ve come a long way, so lay it out.”

She takes a deep breath. “Alright. You asked for it. I think we have some kind of connection. Like, I know this is crazy, but since day one in the library, there was something between us. Insta-hate? Insta-attraction?”

My heart pounds.

Not hate, Rainbow.

“You can deny all you want, but it’s there. If you kissed me, hate or attraction, yeah, we’d probably hook up just to get it out of our systems, and that has nothing to do with my ex.” She sighs.

I stand up, uncertain how to reply.

“How’s your head?” she asks.

“Better. Strange…they usually last hours. You think we have a connection?” I can’t let it go.

“Yes, but…” A frustrated expression flits over her face. “I guess we do need ground rules. First, no talking about my lips. And stop saying my name like you want to fuck it.”

“Hmmm. Anastasia,” I murmur, dragging out the syllables. “Sounds totally normal to me.”

“It’s not!” She inhales.