With You (Tear Asunder 0.5)

“Shit.” When Matt got mad, it wasn’t just a few short curse words, it was a lecture that had us both hanging our heads and shifting our feet.

Matt’s face grew fierce when he noticed us. We were too far away to tell, but I knew two red blotches were burning bright on his chiseled cheekbones. It was the kind of face that would make Godzilla tuck his tail between his legs and run.

“On the burner,” I muttered.

“On high,” Kat replied.

Matt began shoving people out of his way as he strode toward us. It looked like he was pushing car-dashboard spring dolls, people popping right back in place after he passed. And not a single one of them gave him attitude for it.

Kat squeezed my forearm. “Go. I’ll intercept him while you ask scary hot-ass.” She licked her lips, and her eyes shimmered like aventurescence. “If he helps you . . . you so have to fuck him.”

I rolled my eyes, typical Kat. “Owe you, missy.”

“Sure do. I fucking hate beets.”

I smiled then ducked and weaved my way through the crowd. I heard Matt shout my name and picked up the pace until I’d made my way around to the other side of the warehouse where I’d last seen Sculpt.

I stopped, stood on my tip toes and peered past the crowd. Sculpt stood ten feet away with an arm hooked around a girl’s waist. Blonde, tall, and wearing what looked like a spandex miniskirt that barely covered her ass. If you could even call it an ass; more like a pancake.

Okay, Sculpt didn’t look so scary now. The hard lines of his face had eased—somewhat. I was never very confident when it came to guys. Bullies, and an alcoholic mother who called me ugly and told me I ruined her life put a big dent in the self-image.

You get made fun of enough times about your weight, you start to believe it. Wide Load was my nickname in grade seven. Grade eight, Gavin Hochman changed it to Balloon Butt, which wasn’t so bad really . . . okay it was bad, but I got used to it. My height had finally caught up to my ass in grade ten, but I wasn’t a toothpick. I still had an ass, but I also had hips and curves which Kat said was every guy’s wet dream. I still wasn’t so sure about that, especially when all the magazine covers had models looking like the girl currently hanging off Sculpt like a piece of tinsel.

Seriously, the guy was too attractive for his own good. The tinsel on his left arm glared at me as if I was going to steal her Christmas tree. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her, because, really, I was no competition for her. Sculpt obviously liked rail-thin, legs-to-the-ceiling, make-up-heavy chicks, and I was . . . well, not.

But my purpose was also far different than hers.

I pressed closer and touched the tip of my finger to his arm. He completely ignored me. The girl snickered and slapping her was feeling like a real good idea. I may be unconfident around guys, but I was the complete opposite with girls my own age.

I tapped again—harder.

“Sugar, one sec.” Sculpt didn’t even turn his head and continued talking to the two guys in front of him.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Kat chatting to Matt who was wildly searching the crowd for me. Shit, I needed to do this now.

I looked at the girl. “Umm sorry, but I haven’t seen my brother in a really long time. Would you mind giving us a minute?” I smiled sweetly. “Please.” I raised my brows for that doleful effect, and I could tell she bought it as she slipped from his grasp. The funny thing was, he didn’t even notice, or if he had, he didn’t care.

The girl backed away, although she stayed close enough to make certain her claws could still reach him.

My turn. I wrapped my fingers around his bicep, well, wrapping was an exaggeration as they couldn’t even come close to circling anything on him except maybe his baby finger.

I tugged while squeezing. “Sculpt?”

He spun around looking on either side of him for the missing girl, then his eyes ran the length of me as if I was up for auction. He looped his arm around my waist and tugged me in tight. I heard the tinsel girl huff then her high heels clicked on the cement floor as she stormed away.

Sculpt leaned in so his lips were close to nibbling on my ear. My breath hitched, and a vibration went through my body. I wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or something else entirely, then I decided it was both. “Not my type,” he said in a deep throaty whisper. “Too young, and I don’t do . . .”

Short. Boring. Drab. The words never left my mouth, instead I did what I always did when guys used to make fun of me—I curled my toes.

“Brunettes,” he finished.

Oh. I pulled back, and he let me, but his arm remained around my waist, hand resting on my hip. Dry mouth was rearing its ugly head as I stared up at him, taking in the slight curve of his nose, his angled cheekbones ,and God, he had this dimple in his chin I wanted to run my finger across.

“Where’d the blonde go?”

To find more bleach for her hair.

“You scare her away?”

His breath tickled the sensitive place just below my ear, and my nerves shot off so violently that I knew I’d have fallen flat on my face if he’d let me go.

“Um well no, not exactly. I told her I was your sister and needed to talk to you.”

His brows rose and he wasn’t smiling . . . Shit. “Sister? I don’t have a sister, at least not one I’m aware of. Unless you’re trying to tell me something?” There was an edge to his voice; rough with a hint of darkness.