No Bad Days (Fisher Brothers 1)

Without responding, I started moving along with him, my body language telling him everything my mouth wasn’t. He held the door open for me and I walked through, thankful that the sun was hidden behind tree branches. I didn’t want to put my sunglasses on when Nick wasn’t wearing any. Call it another quirk of mine, but I always considered it rude to wear sunglasses during a conversation if the other person wasn’t. There was something intimate about eye contact.

“So you were at the party last Friday. And I was too busy making out with Monika to notice.”

“Oh, so you do remember her name,” I teased, and he stopped walking to laugh a little, which caused me to stop as well. Whatever his body did, mine seemed to mimic.

He leaned in close, his mouth mere inches from mine. “I’m not a total scumbag, Jess. I do remember the names of the girls I kiss.”

“How nice for them,” I said with a little more snark than I’d intended, feeling absolutely bipolar with my emotions. One second I was wanting to throw myself at this guy, and the next I was a snide brat basically calling him a pig.

Pick a side. I mentally chastised myself, wondering if I even could. Nick seemed to bring out warring emotions in me, even if the side that wanted to jump into his lap was definitely favored.

“So mouthy,” he said, staring at my lips.

Pretending not to notice the chills his attention sent through my body, I blurted, “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Wait . . . why the hell was I apologizing?

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” He started moving, and again, my body automatically followed. “So, Jess, tell me about yourself.”

I swallowed hard and hoped he didn’t notice. How on earth was I supposed to even answer that question?

“What do you want to know?” I cast a glance in his direction, taking in the way he moved with an air of confidence most guys only pretended to have.

A few choruses of Hi, Nick broke through our otherwise private conversation. He cast smiles at the girls and bumped knuckles with a few guys, but never stopped walking or focusing his attention on me.

“What year are you,” he asked, “and why have I never seen you before?”

“I’m a sophomore, and I don’t know.”

“Did you live in the dorms as a freshman?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s one reason. I don’t hang out at the dorms. Did you go to any of my parties last year?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I considered telling him a lie to sound cool, but opted for the truth instead.

“I was so terrified that I was going to fail out of school, that I didn’t really have any fun at all last year.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. You don’t strike me as the type of person to fail or not have any fun.”

His gaze raked the length of my body, making me feel very underdressed in my crop top and shorts. It was the first time since we started talking or flirting or whatever it was we were doing that he made me feel like a potential notch in his bedpost with just a glance.

“You don’t even know anything about me,” I shot back, my defenses coming up.

“That’s all going to change, Jess Michaelson. I’m going to get to know you. Very well.”

“I told you I’m seeing someone,” I reminded him.

“For now,” he said, his confidence oozing out of him as easily as breathing. “I’ve gotta go. See you in class.”