Nice Guys Don't Win (The Boys #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,18
they’re looking at me or what they’re thinking. I do it for me. Because it feels good to move my body, to exist in a moment. Dance is freeing, it’s the language of our bodies.
When I finally open my eyes, they connect immediately with caramel brown ones. He’s moved closer to the bonfire, beer bottle in hand while his jaw works angrily at the piece of gum he’s chewing.
I know I shouldn’t do it.
I’ve sworn off men.
He’s my roommate.
He’s hot as hell.
But I do it anyway.
I crook my finger. It’s a challenge, a silent dare. The ball’s in his court.
He shoves the bottle into the hand of one of his friends, slinking toward me like a panther. When he gets to me he wraps one big hand around my waist, the heat of his palm a brand against my skin. He begins to move to the song as well, and despite our massive height difference it works—we work, but I don’t let my brain linger on that thought too long.
I don’t know if he has any formal dance training, but he moves like someone who has at least some knowledge or basic understanding of rhythm. The fire crackles nearby, and I faintly taste ash on my tongue. His brows are drawn low as he watches me, our movements evenly matched as we anticipate each other’s movements. People still watch, but this time they’re not just watching me. It’s us. Normally I would be scared to put on a show like this, I’m not this bold, but after everything with Todd some spontaneity won’t kill me. In fact, I think it’ll be good for me. It also helps that on this campus no one knows who I am. I like the anonymity of it. I can be anyone.
He knows you, my conscience whispers to me.
But not really, sure he knows who I am, but Cole doesn’t know much of my past, of my hurts, the scars I bear. And tonight, I just want to be, to exist in this moment.
With both hands on my waist, he dips me backwards and my hair falls with me, the ends touching the grass. When he pulls me back up, we’re closer than before. Chest to chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat—well, maybe not quite since he’s such a giant. I crane my neck back as we sway, our hips moving in a sensual rhythm, and our eyes meet.
Lust.
Desire.
Sex.
It’s there. In his gaze. Mine too. We can’t go there, not just because we’re living together, but because I need time. To heal. To stand on my own two feet. To grow.
I pull out of his arms. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” I bite my lip, truly remorseful. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, taking a step back.
Another.
One more.
Until I’m disappearing into the shadows.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, but he’s not listening.
No one is.
The words are for myself.
9
Cole
Zoey is pretending nothing happened last night. That we didn’t share something. And since she’s acting that way, I’m following her lead.
We walk side by side in the grocery store, picking up some necessities, and on the way back home I promised I’d take her to my job and introduce her to Joe.
Zoey drops a bag of apples in the cart, followed by oranges, and grapes. Apparently, the girl likes her fruit. Next are bananas, some sweet potatoes, and bags of salad.
We decided it would be easier to shop together and split the costs since we like a lot of the same stuff. I don’t let it show, but I’m highly amused by it after her whole not wanting to share speech.
“Do you like zucchini?” She picks up the phallic shaped vegetable.
“No.”
She puts it in the cart. “You’ll like it the way I make it.”
I curse under my breath, scrubbing a hand over my face. I like her and that’s the problem. My eyes watch her ass as she walks in front of me.
Look away. Don’t go there.
We make it through the entire store and then she starts down the cookie aisle.
Turning to look at me over her shoulder, she lifts a finger in warning. “Don’t say a thing.”
“About what?”
“Root beer and cinnamon gum are your vices.” She eyes the packs of IBC and gum in the cart. “This is mine.” She pulls six packs of red velvet Oreos off the shelf and places them in the cart with everything else. “Do you want any? Because I’m not sharing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re not very good at sharing, are you?”