One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths #2)(5)
He takes a step toward me and I instinctively retreat, only to find my back pressed up against the wall once again. A sly smile creeps over his mouth, as if knowing that I’m cornered and pleased by it. Closing the distance, his arms stretch out, his hands pressing up against the wall on either side of my face, his broad body, his towering height, his entire presence effectively boxing me in. And I suddenly can’t breathe. This is suffocating. I try peering around him, looking for my sister, but I can’t see anything past flesh and muscle. And I don’t know where to look because no matter where I do, he’s there. Finally, I hazard a glance up. Heated eyes as dark as midnight bore into my face. I swallow, my stomach doing several full somersaults.
“That’s one hell of a swing for someone so . . .” He moves one hand down and closer to my arm. I feel a thumb graze along my bicep. “Female.” I shiver responsively and a visual flashes through my mind—a shaking rabbit, cornered by a wolf. He cocks his head and I catch curiosity flitter past. “So you’re shy . . .but not too shy to punch me across the face.” There’s a pause, and then he offers me another crooked smile laced with arrogance. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You looked like you were really enjoying that shooter. I had to taste it for myself.”
Swallowing, I manage to pull my arms up and across my chest in an attempt to force some barrier between his chest and mine. My voice decidedly shaky, I say, “And?”
The grins widens, his eyes dropping to stare at my mouth for so long that I don’t think I’m going to get an answer out of him. But I finally do. One that comes after he licks his bottom lip. “And I could go for another one. You game?”
My body instinctively presses against the wall as I try to meld into it, to get away from this guy and whatever lewd intentions he has.
“All right, that’s enough!” A wave of relief sweeps over me as a delicate hand slips between us, landing against the Jell-O thief’s bare chest and pushing him back. He submits, slowly retreating, arms raised as if in surrender. He turns to rejoin his friends.
“Way to start off, Livie. I think that should keep Stayner off your back for a while,” Kacey says, barely able to get the words out through her laughter. She’s laughing!
“It’s not funny, Kacey!” I hiss. “That guy forced himself on me!”
She rolls her eyes but then, after a long pause, she sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.” Reaching over, she pinches the guy’s arm without hesitation. “Hey, buddy!”
He turns back toward us with a scowl, mouthing “f*ck” as he rubs his arm. The scowl lasts only a second before he sees Kacey’s glare. Or rather, her face and her body. And then that stupid grin is back. Huge surprise.
“You do that to her again and I’ll sneak into your room and rip your balls off while you sleep, capisce?” she warns with a pointed finger. Most times my sister’s threats involve the mutilation of testicles.
The Jell-O thief doesn’t respond at first. He simply stares at her and my sister levels him with her own stare, completely unfazed. But then his gaze flickers back and forth between the two of us. “You guys sisters? You look alike.” We get that a lot so I’m not surprised, though I don’t see it. We both have the same light blue eyes and pale skin. But my hair is jet black and I’m taller than Kacey.
“Pretty and smart. You’ve got a real winner on your hands, Livie!” Kacey shouts extra loud so both of us can hear.
He shrugs and the cocky grin is back. “I’ve never had two sisters. . . . ” he begins with a suggestive arched brow.
Oh. My. God.
“And you never will. Not these two sisters, anyway.”
He shrugs. “Not at the same time, maybe.”
“Don’t worry. When my baby sister gets laid for the first time, it won’t be with you.”
“Kacey!” I gasp, my eyes darting to his face, praying that the loud music drowned out her words. By the flash of surprise I detect there, I know that it didn’t.
I grab hold of her arm and tug her away. She’s already sputtering apologies. “Jeez, Livie. I’m sorry. I guess I’m drunk. Loose lips . . .”
“Do you know what you just did?”
“Painted a big virginal bull’s-eye on your back?” Kacey confirms with a scrunched-up face.
With a cautious glance over my shoulder, I find him back with a group of guys, chuckling as he sips on his beer. But those piercing eyes stay on me. When he catches me looking, he reaches over to take one of his friend’s Dixie cups. He holds it up, making a show of his tongue sliding over the top before quirking his brow and mouthing, “Your turn?”
My head whips back around and glare at my sister. I snap, “I should have just let you wear that damn T-shirt!” I may be inexperienced and naïve in some manners, but I know full well that a guy like that discovering an eighteen-year-old virgin is his idea of finding that ever illusive pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
“I’m sorry . . .” She shrugs, glancing back at him. “Gotta admit he’s hot, though, Livie. He looks like a Mediterranean underwear model. There’d be no coyote-ugly situation in the morning there.”
I sigh. I don’t know why Kacey seems hell-bent on getting me to trade in my “V-card.” For years, she never cared. In fact, she seemed happy that I didn’t date in high school. But lately she’s been driven by this notion that I’m sexually repressed. I swear I’m beginning to loathe her choice to go into psychology.