“Fine,” he tucks his phone back into his coat pocket, “then tell me something cool about you.”
I take a deep breath, gazing out into the black water, “I don’t know.” I try to think of something as interesting as camping on beaches and getting sniffed out by apex predators, but nothing immediately comes to mind.
“Yes, you do,” Colson scoffs, “quit being shy.”
There is one thing. But I never really talk about it with anyone except Barrett. I stare across the path at a random spot in the grass, debating whether to even go there. But, for some inexplicable reason, Colson feels like a safe person to tell. Even if he did act like a douche…
Fine, what the hell.
I turn to meet his eyes, “I want to write books.”
Colson stares at me for a few moments, until I feel like maybe I made a mistake by telling him. Then a faint smile crawls across his face, “What kind of books?”
“Fiction. Thrillers, suspense, horror—dark stuff.”
He studies me with those icy fucking eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m serious. I stare back at him, waiting for some reaction.
“Have you written anything?”
“Yes,” I look down at the pavement, “but nothing complete.”
“Can I read it?”
I hesitate, caught off-guard, “Do you like that kind of stuff?” I did not expect this response from him.
Colson glances off to the side, “Dark stuff? Yes. And if it’s coming from your head,” he turns his attention back to me, “then, yes, I definitely want to read it.”
“You might be waiting a while, but I’ll let you know when it’s finished.”
“Fair enough. In the meantime,” he steps between my legs, still dangling from the edge of the wall, “you know what else would be cool?”
I arch my brow at him, “What?”
Colson slides his hand around the back of my neck and gently pulls my face to his. But, even as a wave of butterflies explodes through my stomach, I tilt my head to the side, evading his lips.
He can apologize, bring me signed copies of books by one of my favorite authors, drive me to Cincinnati, buy me dinner on the river, and listen to my hopes and dreams, but he’s not about to get away with his insolence that easily. Maybe it’s petty, but I’m not over his superb assholery inviting me to a party and then humiliating me in front of my friends.
Colson eyes me for a moment and then gently pulls me to him again. This time, I lift my chin so his lips brush my neck. I level my head, looking him in the eye the entire time just to match his own brand of arrogance.
His mouth curls into a half-smile that would drive me wild if I didn’t have my own agenda at the moment, “Whatcha doing?”
“What are you doing?” I taunt back.
Colson looks me up and down, “Trying to see what you taste like.”
I lean forward until my nose touches his, “Ask me nicely,” I whisper with a wry smile.
Something subtle changes in his expression, and if I hadn’t been staring into those pale blue eyes, I never would’ve noticed. It feels like I’ve gone from the girl he flirts with in class to his next meal.
Colson lowers his arms and wraps them around my waist, pulling me closer to him by the small of my back. I don’t budge, my hands flat on the cold brick next to my legs. He nudges my head to the side, leaning in until his breath rushes into my ear.
“Let me kiss you,” he flicks my earlobe with his tongue, sending a chill up my spine, “please.”
I pull back to meet his eyes and shoot him a coy smile, “I’ll think about it,” I whisper back.
I press my hands against his chest, gently pushing him back so I can jump down from the wall. Colson eyes me as I brush past him and return to the walking path, stopping on the pavement to wait for him.
Once he joins me, he nods toward the hillside and offers his hand, “Let’s go.”
I gladly slide my fingers into his and follow him back up the path to the parking lot. Back at his Bronco, he opens the passenger door, but then steps in front of me, blocking my way.
He motions to me with his index finger, “Come here,” and when I do, he bows his head and gazes down at me with a smile as thick and sugary as honey, “you should know something.” Suddenly, he seizes the top of my throat between his thumb and forefinger and backs me against the open door.
My hand flies to his wrist in surprise and my heart begins to race, bombarded with a bizarre mixture of confusion, adrenaline, and more thrill than I’d like to admit. He leans in, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me by force, but all he does is give my throat a gentle squeeze, “You’re going to pay for that back there,” he murmurs before dropping his arm and nodding at me to get into the car.
I snap my mouth shut after realizing it’s hanging halfway open, and hastily climb into the Bronco. I watch Colson’s every movement as he strolls around the front of the car to the driver’s side and, a second later, I feel my phone vibrate. I dig my phone out of my jacket to see a text from Barrett.
BARRETT (10:13PM): You’re in Cincinnati????
How does she know that? Oh, yeah, I’m tagged in pictures…
ME (10:14PM): I’ll tell you about it later.
Her response is filled with a barrage of shocked face emojis and an excessive amount of fire icons. I grin and drop my phone into my bag as Colson opens the door. I glance over at him as he collapses into the driver’s seat, trying to ignore the fact that I’m more attracted to him now than I was two minutes ago.
And I probably shouldn’t be.
“So, what are we doing?” I chirp, trying to ignore the ember catching fire in the pit of my stomach.
