My Darling Arrow (St. Mary's Rebels 1)

He licks his lips.

It’s not even a full lick or an obvious lick or anything. It’s simply a slight peek of his tongue followed by a little swipe of his lower lip.

It makes him look so… wicked, so provocative.

So opposite of how I’ve known him that I have to actually do what he did. I have to actually lick my own lips like a moron to believe that it happened.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, nodding slowly, his arms still folded across his chest. “Although I had no idea you cared about them. The rules.”

I shift on my feet, trying not to think about his lip-licking. “I do.”

“You do, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Well then, this place is having a tremendous effect on you. Because I can’t seem to remember a time when you were so enamored by them.” He pauses and adds, somehow saying the words in italics, “The rules.”

Something about that makes me narrow my eyes at him. “That’s because you never paid me any attention before. Since you’ve always been so busy with soccer and other things.”

I don’t know why I said that. There’s no possible explanation for it, for why I’d goad him further like this.

But now I have and he takes the bait.

He takes it with his whole body in fact. He cocks his head to the side and widens his stance as the corners of his lips twitch. For some reason I think it’s from both surprise and amusement.

“I didn’t, did I?” he murmurs, shaking his head as if at himself.

“No, you didn’t.”

He hums, his eyes all sparkly and intense. “I am now though, and correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t I see you at a bar recently? As recently as last week, around midnight. Blatantly ignoring all the rules you claim to care so much about.”

Holy… What?

My eyes go so wide, so fucking wide at this, that I’m surprised they haven’t popped out of my head.

Did he really, actually say that? Loudly, no less.

Yeah, he did because there’s a sudden outbreak of gasps and murmurs around me.

That… that jerk.

I can’t believe I’m using that word in context to him, to Arrow.

But God. God.

Does he have any idea how much trouble this can get me in? This is not a joke.

It looks like he does. He does know this isn’t a joke and he has every idea about how much trouble this could get me in because the jerk is smiling.

Well, more like a lopsided, amused sort of smile that he’s kind of trying to hide by scratching the side of his mouth with his thumb. And by ducking his head in a way that his stupid, sexy jaw catches the afternoon sun.

And his slight stubble glints.

Glints.

The jerk is glinting and I’m watching him like an idiot.

Say something.

I fist my hands at my sides and clear my throat. The whole crowd quiets down to listen to what I have to say and I swear to God, if I get out of this alive, I’m going to kill him.

I’m going to kill the guy I love.

But I let out a laugh first – nervous and completely fake, glancing at Coach TJ from the corners of my eyes; she’s glaring at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I laugh again and his lopsided stretch of lips turns into a full one as he watches me grapple with the situation he created.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, you are,” I continue. “But I’m afraid there’s a problem in your stupid joke.”

“Oh, is there?”

“Yes. Because I can’t go anywhere off campus, let alone to a bar. I don’t have the privilege yet. Besides…” I narrow my eyes at him and repeat his words from that night. “Lights out at nine-thirty, remember? That’s the rule and even I wouldn’t dare to break it my very first week at St. Mary’s.”

Something crackling passes through his eyes. “Is that what the rule is?”

“Yes. Maybe you should read the rule book.”

“Maybe,” he replies lazily. “Or maybe I should just ask you. Since you’ve become such a model student.”

I purse my lips at his sarcastic comment. “So I was here. In bed. Where I belong.”

I think I spoke too many words and gave too much of an explanation, and now they’re going to catch me.

They’re going to take away all my privileges – however basic they might be – and probably even shut me in a room so I never ever sneak out again.

All because this jerk is having his fun with me.

But then I hear him drawl, “Well, now that you mention it. It wasn’t you.” My body unclenches and he looks me up and down again. “The girl I saw had messier hair, I think. Poutier lips too. You’re right.”

It’s a wonder I can talk after that ‘poutier lips’ comment but I do. “Apology accepted. Now you know.”

“I didn’t apologize.” Then, “I would’ve loved to see that though.”