Enemy Down - Cathryn Fox Page 0,22
home, Maize?” His laughter falls and his voice turns serious.
I shift, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “I lived in Cumberland, but I was on a scholarship at Sweetwater.” He nods, and takes a sip, like he’s absorbing all that. “What about you?”
“I moved to Sweetwater in high school, as you know. We used to live in D.C. Dad’s a Supreme Court judge but maybe you know that.”
I nod. “Why did you move to So Cal?”
“It’s where my parents are from and Dad worked so much. Mom wanted to be closer to family.”
“That’s nice, I think. Do you have any siblings?”
I don’t miss the tightening of his fingers around his mug as he fiddles with it. “No, just me. I’m not really close to my parents, but I have a cousin I’m close to and I’m really close to my grandmother on my father’s side.”
“That’s really nice. My grandparents are gone, and no cousins to speak of.”
“You’re an only child too, I take it.”
“That’s right.”
He slaps his palms on the table, “Well, that settles it then,” he says teasingly. “We can never marry.”
I laugh. “Not that I’m ever getting married, but I get what you’re saying, only child syndrome. We’re both too independent, ambitious, and obsessive. We’d kill each other.”
He leans into me, his smile gone as his tongue brushes his bottom lips. “Obsessive. That’s a good word.”
Holy. Crap. What is going on with him right now? My brain might not know; I’ve not had a whole lot of experience with guys, but my body is reacting all on its own—nature completely taking its course.
“Are you saying you’re obsessive?” I ask, and wish my voice wasn’t so damn shaky.
“I guess we’ll see.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Over the rim of his cup, he asks, “You want to be a lawyer, huh? Here in California?”
Alrighty then, way to change the subject. I shrug. “I don’t know where. My mom is here so I don’t want to be too far from her. We’re close.”
I take a sip of the strong coffee and decide it needs sugar. I reach for the bowl with the sugar packets at the exact same time he does, and just like in the movies, our hands brush. I always thought that move was so darn corny, so contrived, and their reaction from a simple hand touch was totally over the top. You know what I think now, as my heart beats a little faster and I come alive deep between my legs.
I was wrong.
God, how can an innocent, barely-there touch awaken me, set off fireworks between us?
“Sorry about that,” he says, and I note the way the blue in his eyes seems to darken. “Go ahead.”
I put my hands on my lap, as my traitorous body continues to tingle. “No, you go.”
He gestures with a nod. “It’s okay, you go.”
I give a fast shake of my head. “No, you.”
As if we both want to put a stop to this stupid back and forth banter, not to mention the sudden burst of electricity between us—although I could be the only one feeling it—we both reach for it again, touch hands, and boom, my ovaries clench so hard, I’m worried I might have just climaxed. We both snatch our hands back.
“We are both so stubborn.” He laughs and sits back. “I think I’m going to drink this with just one sugar.”
“Yeah, I don’t need any sugar either.” I snort. “Now that I’m not running every day, who needs the extra calories, right?”
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice low, and filled with such sincerity that a weird little thrill goes through me, but I push it down. He’s just being nice. I’ve seen the cheerleaders he goes out with—or rather fucks—as he so bluntly put it, and I appreciate his honesty. Why lead a girl on only to dump her and leave her broken?
“I’m not perfect,” I tell him. Wait, am I fishing for a compliment? I stifle a groan, because I think I might be.
“You’re an athlete. You need to eat, whether you’re currently running or not.” I look down and he slides his hand across the table, this time his rough fingers purposely caress mine, a scrape of a touch that makes me forget I don’t like this guy. My gaze flies to his. “You’ll run again, Maize.”
He looks so sad, the need to soothe his worries compels me to say, “I love running, and I’m grateful that I’m good at it, but it’s just a means to an end.”
Someone clears