Pretty When She Cries - A. Zavarelli Page 0,45

we want each other too. I’ve wanted her since the afternoon she showed up on my doorstep, like a gift straight from heaven. Now, I’m beginning to wonder if she was a gift straight from hell instead.

My gaze swoops over every curve on her body like a winding highway. She keeps trying to lose weight, but she has no idea how many guys wonder what those curves would feel like beneath their palms. It’s the thing that bothers me most about her transformation. She’s trying to convert herself from a renaissance piece into a digitized, lifeless printout. Kail could never see her body was exactly why the other girls felt she was a threat. She’s a classical film star, and everyone else is just an extra.

“Landon.” She snaps her fingers again, breaking my stare. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” I groan. “Alright, I’ll go. On one condition.”

Suspicion creases her features when I sit up.

She shakes her head. “There are no conditions. This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Everything is open to negotiation.” I smirk. “If it weren’t, you’d have already maced my ass with that canister on your nightstand.”

“You know, I’m beginning to think you actually want me to.” She rolls her eyes. “But sure, okay, I’ll bite. What do you want?”

“One kiss and I’ll leave.”

“You’re insane.” A pretty blush spreads down her neck. “You know that, right?”

“‘With long intervals of horrible sanity.’”

“Really?” She laughs like she can’t help it. “Quoting Poe to me?”

“You aren’t the only one who likes to read.”

She cocks her head to the side. “I thought you hated to read. Isn’t that why you needed tutoring in the first place?”

Ignoring that topic, I stretch out my body, not missing the way Kail’s eyes drift over it with appreciation.

“So, yes or no? Are we having a sleepover, or are you gonna let me have a kiss?”

She analyzes the stinging mark on my face with a grimace. “Is that from Audrey?”

“No.”

When I give nothing else away, she lets out a small huff. She wants to know if I’ve talked to her. If we’ve broken up. She wants to know all of it. It’s written all over her face, and I don’t think my dick has ever been so hard.

“Well, in that case, maybe you should go ask your girlfriend for a kiss.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Bitterness laces her words, and I can’t hide my answering grin.

“My, my. You are one jealous little pineapple.”

“You wish.” She finger-combs her hair, something she does whenever she’s nervous but wants to appear unbothered.

“I take it you’re not still smarting over the loss of your boyfriend,” I muse. “Did he ever kiss you like he kissed that cheerleader in the pool?”

What I really want to ask is if she’s ever been with anyone else. But the words get caught in my throat because I doubt I’d like the answer.

She shrugs noncommittally. “That’s none of your business.”

“You brought it up,” I remind her. “We can spend all night talking about Jared and Audrey if you want. I’m up to the task if you are. You can tell me what really went on between you two, and then I’ll lay bare every sordid detail—”

She scrubs her hands over her face and grumbles. “You know we both have to be up early tomorrow for the game.”

“Better decide quickly then.”

“You are so infuriating!” she growls. “Fine, one kiss. Then you leave.”

I flash my victory like a medal as I stalk toward her. She rises to her full height of five feet nothing and stands her ground, but the tremble in her muscles betrays her nerves. She wants this. She might be practically shoving me out the door, but her eyes are begging for me to stay.

“You’re the worst.” I tug her body close to mine, sandwiching my erection against her. “The absolute worst.”

“So are you.” She flattens her palms against my chest and drags them down to my waist. “Just look at these muscles. They’re… disgusting.”

The breathiness in her voice makes me want to smile. But I can’t let her win. If I give her too many, she’ll get the wrong idea about this. She’ll think I actually like her.

“Can’t you ever say something nice?” I stare down into her satanic brown eyes.

“Something nice,” she replies like a smart-ass.

I brush her hair back over her shoulder and slide my finger beneath the thin strap of her tank top. Her throat bobs.

“Your eyes aren’t the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” Her confession comes out as a whisper, and she looks as

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