“You too. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll try not to be.”
“Liri, my son needs a good girl like you.” He offers me a smile.
I nod not knowing how to respond to that. Susie waves bye from the other end of the bar where she is filling salt shakers. They seems so nice. I can’t help but wonder why Killian seems to hate them as much as he claims to.
Chapter 22
Liri
Killian is waiting in the car and when I close my door and start to buckle my seatbelt, he peels out of the parking lot. I clutch the edge of the leather seat. It will probably have claw marks from my fingernails biting into the material. He’s obviously upset about something that transpired between him and his father while I was in the restroom.
I place my hand on his thigh. “Please slow down.”
“I’m not going that fast,” he quips, but I notice he eases off the gas.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” he turns the stereo up loud, and I lay my head back with a sigh.
The ride back to Crestwood is tense and silent other than the angry rock playing.
“If you are going to keep ignoring me maybe you should just drop me back at the dorm,” I tell him even though that isn’t what I want.
“If that’s what you want.” He won’t even look at me.
“No, it’s not, but you are being an asshole to me, and I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He lets out a breath and turns down the street for the frat house. “My dad is a real asshole, Liri. He makes me so damn mad.”
I squeeze his hand once we have parked.
“What did he do that is so terrible?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk.” He licks his lips. I undo my seatbelt and climb over the console. It’s a tight fit, but I manage to straddle his lap. I bring my mouth down on his and thrust my tongue into his mouth and it hits me. He hasn’t smoked once while I have been with him this evening. I smile into his lips but don’t say anything. I don’t want him to pull away. My arms go around his neck and he holds my hips. His fingers tease at my sides, rubbing up and down in a fluid motion.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” I mock, leaning back against the steering wheel, and the horn goes off.
We both laugh.
“Come on, let’s go in before someone snaps a video.”
“We got paparazzi following us now?”
“You never know.”
Walking into the frat house and it being quiet and empty is weird. “Where is everyone?”
“Studying, work, practice…” he shrugs. “We don’t party nonstop.” I follow him upstairs to his room.
He puts my bag on top of a pile of clothes in a chair. The fact that he has a laundry chair makes him seem normal.