Playing with Fire

Of course. A Bible-thumping girl would go for the whitest, most middle-class guy on campus. I remembered the night Karlie and Grace came to see me fight.

“I’ll throw in a good word with Miles Covington.”

“You don’t know Miles Covington.”

“He’s my errand boy.”

He wasn’t, but I knew him well enough to get him to take her out if need be. Hell, for the right price, I’d have him marry Little Einstein.

She rolled her eyes, her shoulders dropping with a sigh.

“Well, it’s not really a secret, anyway. I just wanted to mess with you.” She excused herself.

I leaned forward, giving her my full attention.

“She went to the movies.” Karlie jutted her chin out. “With Easton Braun.”

There was only one movie theater in this godforsaken town.

I turned around and dashed out, bailing on my shift.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she hollered after me. “I can’t do this on my own!”

“Have a little faith,” I yelled back.

I was getting the fucking girl.

Whether I deserved her or not.

When the teenager with the retainer and unfortunate dad bod asked me what movie I wanted to see behind the box office glass, I pointed at the one with Kate Hudson on the poster.

“M—Mona Lisa a—and the Blood Moon?” he sputtered, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Problem?” I drawled.

The kid shook his head, his shoulders quaking with a suppressed laugh. He was about to get a front row seat to How to Lose an Eye in Ten Seconds if he wasn’t careful.

I grabbed the ticket and got into the theater forty minutes into the movie. It was early afternoon. Who took a girl to a movie midday? A pretentious little shit like Easton, that was who. He’d probably promised to have her back home before curfew.

I went up the stairs, scanning the mostly empty seats. I spotted them in one of the back rows, huddled together, sharing popcorn.

I lumbered up the stairs, taking a seat beside Grace, essentially sandwiching her between Easton and me. Their eyes didn’t waver from the movie. Collateral punishment for my shitty behavior.

I could practically hear East snickering in my ear.

“Here to team-tag Blondie?”

He hadn’t even said that, and my fingers curled around the armrests, almost snapping the damn things.

Nothing about this was familiar territory for me.

I’d never had girl problems before.

My philosophy had been as follows: if they wanted to hook up—great; if not—no problem. The two relationships I’d had in high school were easy. My girlfriends had been physically pleasing and cool to hang out with. But I never felt like I could kill anyone who looked their way. And it was starting to feel like, in Grace Shaw’s case, I had the tendency to get very jealous and very possessive anytime someone as much as breathed her way.

“I was an asshole,” I piped up finally, my voice rough.

Grace popped two popcorn kernels into her pink mouth, blinking at the screen under her ball cap.

“Fine. Am. I am an asshole, happy?”

“Amp it up, man.” Easton tsked, snickering into a fist full of popcorn. “I’m not hearing you owning up to it. I wanna see you sweat. Maybe throw a Notebook quote in.”

Suddenly, I knew exactly what this was. My best friend wanted to prove a point. To show me I cared for this girl.

East pushed, and he’d pushed far, not because he wanted to tap Grace’s ass, but because he wanted to kick mine into action. I’d been lying to myself since the day I’d met this chick.

A faint smile rose on Texas’ lips. They were a nice pair of lips. Pale and pillowy, the bottom plumper than the upper one.

“He’s right,” she teased. “A quote from The Notebook would make everything better.”

“Shh!” someone a few rows below growled.

The Notebook, they said? I’d watched it a thousand times with … never mind.

My jaw ticked, and I ignored the rapid pulses in my eyelid. “You got a taste for humiliation?” I scanned her coldly.

“Tit for tat,” she tutted. “You humiliated me. It’s only fair that I witness you squirm.”

Damn this girl to hell. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“I could be whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll become that,” I said quietly.

It might not have been verbatim, but it was damn close. She shivered in her seat. Easton threw his head back, his entire body quaking with silent laughter. He wasn’t going to be so happy when I got back home later tonight to pull out his toenails with tweezers while he watched.

“I’m sorry I shoved you out the door the other day. It was shitty, and rude, and out of order. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you there. My mother and I don’t get along—as you can tell from my ignoring her constantly—and I didn’t want her to say something that would offend you. Which, ironically, blew up in my face.”