“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Spitfire.”
My lips parted, and my body involuntarily drew closer to him.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.
And then he did. I closed my eyes, my breath hitching as his lips touched mine. It was only a meeting of lips, barely. So soft, so swift it was over even before I could blink.
“I’ll see you later,” he murmured, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “Kara.”
* * *
My heart was still beating a crazy rhythm by the time I reached my lecture hall. I chose a seat in the back, sitting behind a tall guy so I could hide. Just in case I needed to take a quick nap. Although at the rate my heart was skipping, I’d be awake till Christmas.
He was a master manipulator of my senses, I realized as I caught myself touching my bottom lip. Trying to re-create the way he’d brushed his thumb over it. Trying to remember the feeling of his kiss a few minutes ago in my car. The kiss that wasn’t really a kiss.
It was so different from…our first one. But no less powerful. Not at all.
I looked around the hall, checking if someone had read my thoughts or could read my face. Most of the students were listening to the professor standing on the podium, his hands animated as he explained something to the class.
“What does it take for you to accept kindness? Or do you just really not trust me?”
Maybe he was right. I was too harsh on him. I shouldn’t have responded that way. There was something about him that activated my defensive mode.
Maybe because I knew he could take it. He wouldn’t be put off by it. Or was I trying to put him off with it? Testing to see how long he could go until he gave up and left?
Because the truth was I liked him.
I liked him.
And I didn’t want to.
But that was my problem, I realized as the professor dismissed the class. Rejecting someone who was trying to be kind to me, as he’d put it, was vicious. And my dad didn’t raise me to be like that.
Although the guy didn’t make it easy when he started bossing me around. I was used to bossing people around, not the other way around. I guessed we were similar in that regard, so it was only natural we’d butt heads. But, I thought as I let out a sigh of resignation, I knew that I’d stepped out of line.
Contrite, I fished my phone from my pocket. I bit my lip as I scrolled to his name in my inbox, read his only text from last night.
8 am tomorrow. My place.
A man of few words. What should I text him to let him know I wanted a truce? Did I want one?
A few of the classes in the lecture halls had ended. Students filled the corridor, some heading to their next class in another building, others hanging out to chat and blocking the way. Since I didn’t want to squish between them, I leaned against the wall and started typing him a message.
Want some food?
Erase.
Need a ride after class?
Erase.
Are you over your period cramps?
Erase. He might think I was looking for another fight with that one.
This was hard. All the tips and tricks I’d read about men in magazines flew out the window when I was faced with an actual one. I needed to brush up on the subject again.
Frustrated, I combed my fingers through my hair and looked up. The hallway was now empty, as if the fire alarm had rung and everyone had escaped except for a few rebels who believed it was only a drill.