Falling For My Nemesis

Everyone around him protested, and like the conductor of an orchestra, Ethan waved his arms beside me, slashing through the air and everyone hushed. “I don’t think so. A real kiss. Kiss her like you mean it. Isn’t that what you supposedly said to Wes and Lauren a few months ago?”

Everyone around him laughed, which didn’t bode well for Carson’s ego. I wondered how he was handling all of this. He was so unused to being the one goaded. Unless it was by me.

Carson drilled a murderous look at Ethan. The little muscle above his jaw flickered. And I had the most thrilling, yet confusing thought. He doesn’t want to kiss her.

A guy not wanting to kiss Olivia Matthews was practically unheard of.

His gaze shifted, landing on me for a moment, so quick I barely registered it before he turned back to Olivia.

Smiling, he knelt down in front of her and placed a finger under her chin. My stomach roiled as he said, “Let’s do this.” Then his lips were on hers, kissing her, slow and soft before Olivia, like the vampire she was, gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in even closer.

They were like a pack of wolves then, kissing ferociously—like they needed each other to breathe, to live. One feeding off of the other.

It made me sick to my stomach

Everyone catcalled around them. Some whistled. A boy in the back, said, “Way to go Brooks.”

I couldn’t tell you how the kiss ended. Looking away was about the only thing I could do to keep the fruity drink I consumed from making a reappearance. When they finally pulled away, Carson smiled a lazy, victorious smile and returned to his seat. Only a second later, his eyes found mine, and he winked.

My cheeks caught fire, and I glanced away, hating myself for it. I should’ve held his gaze. Now I probably just looked like a boring prude. Like I couldn’t even handle a little lip-lock without blushing. Or worse yet, like him kissing her bothered me.

Little did he know I was merely trying to suppress my gag reflex at the thought of anyone having to swap spit with him.

When Olivia finally wiped the delirious look from her face, she said, “Carson, truth or dare?”

Carson hesitated, then said, “Truth.”

The look on Olivia’s face told me she was disappointed, but then she brightened, and asked, “Out of everyone in this room, who would you want to kiss the most?” She smiled like the Cheshire Cat, clearly thinking he’d name her following their little tongue war.

I rolled my eyes. No doubt she’d get what she wanted, and they’d go have some epic battle of tonsil hockey in the back of the room.

Carson rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, as if contemplating something, then said, “Shorty.”

My gaze snapped to his. What?

“Who?” Olivia said.

“Randalls.” He shrugged like it was nothing. Like he didn’t just tell the entire room that he wanted to kiss his enemy. “I’d kiss Randalls.”

Olivia glanced to me with bloodlust in her eyes. For a moment, I thought I might need a cross and a couple bulbs of garlic to ward her off.

I could hear the surrounding whispers, and I could imagine what everyone was saying. Me and Carson? No way. It was cataclysmic. Apocalyptic.

Across the room, Jeremiah Dermot crowed, “Oh, now we all know why you made Brad Sousa dump her, and there’s all this tension between you too. Why don’t you guys just kiss it out, huh?”

My pulse drummed in my ears, and I had no doubt my face was redder than a tomato. I frowned, ignoring Jeremiah’s prattling because it made zero sense. Brad Sousa? He broke up with me freshman year.

My gaze shifted back to Carson again, and he broke out into one of his trademark, cocky grins. And I knew. He was merely trying to mess with my head. Of course this was all one big joke to him. For a moment, I actually believed him.

How foolish.

Tell Mia you want to kiss her and watch her ensuing panic.

I narrowed my eyes on him, furious with myself for thinking for even a moment he might actually be serious. Then someone to the right of me shouted, “Prove it.”

I swallowed, flicking my gaze toward the voice. But it was no longer one voice. Everyone started chanting, “Prove it! Prove it! Prove it!” Like this was a game and we were in a football stadium.

It was my worst nightmare come true. Worse than the dream where I stood in front of the whole class in my underwear. Worse than having to go streaking through the Brooks’ living room on a dare.