Ten Below Zero(32)

He put down the single piece of paper before uncapping the pen.

“Rules,” he said as he wrote the word at the top of the page. “Ladies first?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No drinking.”

“Do the rules we make apply to both or just one of us?”

“Both.”

“Okay,” he said before writing, “No drinking” on the first line. “Seatbelts,” he said, adding it next.

“We split the costs for this trip,” I started before Everett held up a hand.

“No.” It was one word, but it was said firmly with no room for argument.

But I was all about arguing, especially today. “Yes,” I replied. “I’m not your girlfriend, not even your friend. I don’t want you paying for me on this trip.” I shifted in my seat. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Maybe I want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, his voice low.

I set my mouth in a line. “Well you’re an *. I want that added to the list, Everett.”

“Everett is an *,” he repeated, writing the words underneath “Seatbelts.”

I huffed, annoyed. “You know that’s not what I meant,” I said, yanking the pen from his hand and grabbing the paper. I crossed off the last line and wrote, “We both pay.”

Everett sat back in the chair and pulled out a gold lighter. It was the same lighter I’d seen him fiddling with the first night we met. I was momentarily distracted, watching him flick the lighter over and over.

“What next?” I asked, when I’d snapped out of my daze.

Everett closed the lighter and put it in his front pocket. “No falling in love.”

I rolled my eyes, something I was beginning to realize was second nature in response to much of what he said. But I added it. “That goes for both parties,” I said, reminding him of our agreement.

“I’ll be dead before I could ever fall in love,” he said, nonchalantly.

“That’s my next rule. No talking about dying, Everett. It’s obvious. You’re not letting it be the white elephant in the room. It’s the main attraction. So, just stop. I don’t need to hear it every five minutes.”

“Fine, then no lying. Add that next,” he insisted. He leaned forward on the table, bringing himself closer to me. “That’ll be easy for me, hard for you.”

I eyed him, annoyed. I watched him look at me, as if this conversation didn’t bother him in the least. He wasn’t nearly uncomfortable yet.

“No black clothes.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“No black clothing.”

He shook his head. “No way in hell,” he growled. There it was: the anger. Finally.

“Yes.”

“All my clothing is black.”

“What you wore to breakfast with Charlotte wasn’t.”

The question I’d had on the back of my mind since meeting Charlotte, seeing him wearing a color other than black.

“Because Charlotte is a work colleague. Or was. If I wore all black to work, people would assume I was depressed.”

“Are you?” I asked pointedly.

He narrowed his eyes. “No. I wear black because it’s comfortable. It’s me. I work with depressed middle school kids. I try to project happiness when I’m at work, hence the color.”

“You’re essentially saying that black is unhappiness then.”

Everett stood up then, signaling he was done talking about it. “That rule isn’t going to happen, Parker. What do you know about happiness, anyway?”

He walked back into the suite through the sliding glass door. A second later I was on my feet, following him.

“Hey!” I shouted. He turned around, weary-eyed.

“I told you, that rule is not going to happen.”

“Then talk to me like a normal, rational human being. Tell me why.”

He shook his head, his anger still simmering. “Because I like black.”

“That’s not all it is. You said you always tell the truth,” I protested.

Everett stalked toward me. The power in his stride, the fire in his eyes, caused me to step back. “I haven’t lied. We said no lies. Not full disclosure. Unless you want me to add that as one of my rules? Because then I can push you, push you until you break.” He was inches from me, yet again invading my personal space. “Until you’re a hundred little pieces. Do you want that, Parker?” he breathed, the warmth from his lips fluttering over my face. And then he kissed me.

It took just a second for my brain to catch up. And then I was clutching him by the front of his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of his tee as I tried to pull him as close as possible.

Everett was devouring me. Absolutely devouring me. His lips were bruising, crushing against me. His tongue whipped in and out of my mouth, a gesture that mimicked what I wanted to happen between us.

Be brave, Parker, I thought to myself.

My hands found his shoulders and I lifted myself up. His arms moved to wrap tightly around my waist, bringing us so close that I could feel every ridge of muscle from his body to mine. His hands slid down, over my backside, cupping my bottom. My entire body ached to be closer. The next thing I knew, he was lifting me up, and so I wrapped my legs around his waist.