Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(4)

“Huh.” Slowly, he licks the remnants of cream icing off his finger. And not in a way that’s at all innocent.

His blue eyes roam over my body, lingering, invasive. His tongue swirls around the tip of his finger while his gaze practically peels away my clothes, sending a warm trill through my belly. It’s ridiculous. And then, because of how cliché it all is, and how lightheaded I suddenly feel, I laugh. Full-on, crazy woman laugh. He did not just try that lame move on me, did he?

“I’m sorry,” I say, waving my hand that’s not clutching the tray. “Thanks for the cake. But I need to go.”

Another laugh barrels from my mouth at the absurdity. I should’ve put it together before; the broad shoulders, muscles, cocky demeanor, entitlement (over a piece of cake!). I have a good bit of experience with his type, and I promised myself never again.

This guy can only be a jock.





2





Ryder





I’ve been launched into the past.

When this girl turned and spoke to me—it was like déjà vu. Like I was seeing a ghost. And maybe that’s why my brain isn’t sending the proper signals to my mouth, and I’m saying the dumbest shit. For one brief, terrifying moment, I thought she was Alyssa.

But she’s not. And I quickly realized that. It’s impossible. But I just can’t stop staring at her; she reminds me so much of the girl that plagued me—that still plagues me. Right when her big amber eyes met mine, I felt like I’d been slapped.

Just the way Alyssa slapped me; palm against face.

But this girl…she is hot. So similar it’s freakily uncanny, but she definitely has her own sexiness. Just something all of her own. She’s model thin minus the height. In every way my type, and she’s perfectly proportioned. She’s covering her body up pretty damn well with all those layers, but I can see a hint of toned, round curves just beneath.

Despite the resemblance, there’s something I can’t place about her. Something skittish and unsure, but assertive at the same time—it’s conflicting. That’s what really sets the divide. Alyssa was soft-spoken and tame. This girl has a livewire buried just beneath her surface. And that vigor radiates off her at a high volume. It’s drawing me in; everything around us so quiet, like I need the silence to hear what she’s not voicing with words.

These are my thoughts as she stands here, manically laughing and waving her hand in the air. Her dark ringlets of hair falling over one shoulder, drawing my gaze right to her small but ample chest. Her head cocked back, like I’ve just said the funniest shit ever—and I’d like to believe that. Feel flattered and stroke my ego. But the reality comes as a blow to the stomach when I realize she’s laughing at me.

Dammit.

Do I have something on my face?

“So…bye,” she says, dropping her hand and gripping the tray with both now. Her knuckles turn this white color. She’s so high-strung—a strange desire to unhinge her sweeps through me. Just to see how she’ll respond. I need more. Just more.

I make one more attempt to fix whatever’s off by running my hand over my face, hoping to clear any icing away, feeling like a completely awkward dork right out of high school. Or hell, like I never left.

The memory of Alyssa has dragged me right back to the past. I’m unnerved.

But I’ve missed my chance. She’s gone.

As I watch her walk away, her narrow hips swaying, sexy—but with no intention of being sexy—an easy smile curls my lips, pushing away some of the unease. That’s what’s so hot; she has no clue. But I feel like I just got called out. She—and I really wish I would’ve caught her name—saw right through that lame-ass move. Offering her a piece of my cake? Did I really just go all grade school there?

I pop my finger into my mouth to finish off the icing.

For some reason, I don’t think bragging about being quarterback is going to win over any points with her. I’m glad I didn’t go there, even though I was about to…I was getting desperate to keep her from leaving. And really, every other girl at Braxton goes for that shit. Don’t fix what’s not broken, right? Though, no—I’m definitely thinking she’s nothing like any of those girls.

“Burn.” This from Gavin—my center—my main guy on the field and off.

My jaw clenches as my gaze quits the little hot girl and swings to him. “Not yet,” I say.

He chuckles. “Dude. She straight up dissed you, man. But hey, she’s new, huh? Give her till the end of the day to figure out who you are, then she’ll be spreading those skinny little legs wide open.” He flops down onto one of the plastic chairs and makes a crude motion with his hands and mouth, miming going down on a girl.

Gavin has no filter. Or shame.

I force a laugh. Because really, you have to laugh at the guy, or it’s just sad.

Laney, as if on cue, ambles over from her designated table and plunks onto Gavin’s lap. Her high ponytail swats him in the face, and he yanks on it, pulling her face toward him so he can devour her mouth.

They’re not a couple—just on again, off again f*ck buddies for the past few years. Whenever they’re single and bored. The smacking and sucking noises can be heard over the chatter of the cafeteria.

Forgoing my initial inclination to chase after the chick that laughed at me and walked off with the other half of my carrot cake, I settle down onto a chair and dig into my piled-high plate. I’m already dismissing the eerie notion that she looked anything like Alyssa. It was the lighting. Or the angle. She just caught me at an off moment. Moving on. That was a blast from the past I don’t want to revisit.