light touch that emphasized my eyes and lips, my two best features. I loved fashion, and I’d gone through all sorts of phases in high school, usually inspired by movies or books I was reading at the time. I was currently in my Edie Sedgwick phase, so today I was wearing a swing dress and over the knee boots. My earrings almost touched my shoulders.
Suffice it to say, my father had raised his brows at breakfast this morning, but as was his way, he left it to my mother to say something. Luckily, she had long given up on trying to make me into a little pastel wearing daughter.
She had just sighed, handed me coffee and complimented my earrings.
I looked kick-ass.
And I knew it. Sure, I might not have been the prettiest girl in the school, but I had the best style. The kind other girls complimented but guys definitely didn’t understand.
But here was Cody Derrick, calling me pretty. Which, in my opinion, was much better than calling someone ‘hot’.
A flush crawled to my forehead. “Ah, thank you,” I said awkwardly.
He grinned wider, his eyes flickering up and down my body. “Like the boots.”
Something about the way he said that electrified me. His words travelled all the way up my legs and... right there. Most of my girlfriends had already lost their virginity. I wanted to. Had no illusions about the first time being special or romantic. I was well aware that it was going to be sloppy, painful and awkward, no matter who I was doing with it. And there had been plenty of chances. Parties where I was drunk enough to make out with some guy who would’ve jumped at the chance to get laid.
But I was never drunk enough to let stuff go past second base.
Because I was waiting. Like an idiot. I was waiting for Cody Derrick to notice me, really notice me. I was waiting even though I knew I’d never get what I wanted but wasn’t ready to give up the fantasy just yet. It happened in the romance novels I’d been devouring since I was fourteen. Yes, they were just books—trash if you listened to my mother, which I didn’t since she considered Good Housekeeping to be fine literature—but they had to be based on something, right?
“Why are you walking me to class?” I asked instead of addressing the comment about my boots and the fact that his eyes had caressed my legs as he did so.
He stopped just shy of my English classroom, not making a move to give me my books back. I glanced toward the classroom where Laurie and Zane were making out right in front of the doorway, not seeming to notice that there was anyone else in their vicinity, or anyone else in the world, maybe. That was typical of those two. They belonged in a romance novel. It was hard to believe what they had—that kind of love wasn’t meant for teenagers. It felt adult, forever. And that was just based on what I saw from the sidelines.
My gaze moved from them because my head moved. Cody’s thumb and finger were gently touching my chin, moving it so I was looking at him again.
Every inch of my skin flamed with that single, gentle touch. He was doing it casually, like he touched me every day, like it was natural.
“Because in those boots, someone else is gonna to try and do a lot more than just walk you to class,” he said, voice rough. “And then I’ll have to do something like pick a fight with a guy who I have no problem with beyond the fact that he’s stupid enough to think he can walk you to class.”
I blinked. Cody wasn’t exactly a man of few words like Cade was. He was boisterous, funny, loud and conversational. Confident. But he had never spoken to me like that before.
“Okay, that is not an answer. Nor does it make sense. Like, not even for a second,” I said. “My boots are cute, for sure. But not that cute.” I waved my hands between us then glanced at the class that was slowly filling up, not wanting to be late. I wasn’t exactly the ‘good girl’, but I didn’t like getting in trouble either. I’d tried to balance out going to parties and getting drunk while telling my mother that I was at a sleepover by keeping my grades up and not getting in trouble at school. I still wanted