On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,78
my forehead.
The phone buzzes again.
We sigh.
“What does he want now?” Drew asks as he grabs the phone. “I’m trying to nail his sister here.”
“Again?” I gasp. “How dare you?”
“You like it,” he teases as he sends a reply.
“You’re right. I’m so dirty.” He sets the phone down again. “What’d he say?”
“Just making me pick a movie for tonight.”
I nod. “You leaving me again?”
Drew exhales softly. “Just for a few more nights,” he says. “At least until the whole I slept with his non-girlfriend thing blows over.”
“He slept with yours, too, right?” I smile. “You’re even.”
“He still seems raw about it.”
“I get it.” I feign a pout. “I can last a few more nights in this big, cold bed all by my lonesome.”
He smiles. “Don’t guilt-trip me. I’m sensitive.”
“Sorry.” I kiss him once. “Then, once that’s blown over...” I bite my cheek, hesitating to breech the subject again. “We should probably tell him about us.”
Drew balances on his elbow. “You’re probably right,” he says, a fresh change from the “soon” response he usually gives.
“Did you want me to tell him?”
“No,” he says. “It should come from me.”
I nod, though I’m not sure I agree. Seth and I are closer now than we’ve ever been. It’s as much my secret as it is Drew’s.
“What?” Drew asks, reading my expression.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just thinking about how nice it would be if I could take you with me to Moira’s for the birthday lunch on Sunday. When my parents ask what I’ve been up to, I could point at you and say, ‘Hey! Look at my pretty boyfriend!’”
Drew smiles. “You know what I think would be an even bigger accomplishment to bring to Mom and Dad?”
“What?”
“An award from the Art Fest tomorrow.”
I cringe. “I walked into that one.”
“The submission deadline isn’t until midnight,” he says. “There’s still time to complete that vision board.”
“Even if I enter, there’s no chance I’ll win anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I can feel it in my bones.”
“Your bones are wrong.”
“No, my bones are cute and not at all scary like a skeleton.”
“Still wrong.”
I exhale hard. “It just doesn’t feel right. And I’m technically a freshman until May when the next Art Fest is, so... I’ve got loads of time to check off my number four.” I scoff. “It’s not like an art prize is going to impress my dad, anyway.”
“I see your point.”
“Besides, there’s no way I was completing that vision board this semester. My car is not getting paid off that quickly, that’s for damn sure.”
Drew cants his head, amused. “You sure about that?”
“Yup.” When he doesn’t reply, I look at his devious eyes. “Drew...”
“Yes?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He smiles. “Nothing at all. I just held onto all the money I got for modeling in your sketch class and I’m giving it to... you.”
I sigh. “Drew, I told you, I’m not accepting donations for my car.”
“A gift is not a donation,” he argues.
“A gift?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re gifting me money for my car?”
Drew smiles. “Happy Birthday, Heidi.”
My mouth sags in amusement. “Well, well, well...” I tsk-tsk. “You’ve found yourself a loophole. Very clever.”
“I’m a clever guy.”
“And how much were you paid for each class again?”
“Well, I modeled for... seven classes this semester,” he says, pausing to count. “So, whatever your statement balance is divided by seven is what they paid me.”
I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“But clever.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Yes, you can.” He kisses the edge of my mouth. “I insist.”
I turn my head to resist a second kiss, but that doesn’t last long. I submit to his strong finger guiding my chin forward again. He crushes his mouth on mine, coaxing my lips to part and kiss him back.
The front door opens across the house. Shoes stomp on the entryway carpet. The door slams, opens, then slams again.
Drew looks at my door. “Jenna having a bad day?” he asks.
“No.” I chuckle. “That’s just her way of announcing her presence in the house just in case you and I are...”
“Ohhh.” He smiles. “Have we been too loud?”
I hesitate. “Eh...”
“Whoops. My bad,” he says, not really sorry. He kisses me softly before sitting up on the bed and reaching for his pants on the floor. “I should head out, anyway. Seth thinks I’m at a study group right now.”
I snort. “You? Study?”
“Hey, 19th century imperialism ain’t gonna learn itself.”
“Such an elaborate ruse,” I say, impressed.
He pulls up his pants as he rises off the bed. “The things a man’s got to do to secretly date his best friend’s