My mother pursed her lips. “You could tell him yourself if you ever called us on the phone.”
“I don’t call anyone.” I gnawed on my lip. “I hate talking on the phone.”
“Who hates talking on the phone?” My mother looked at her friends as if she were speaking about a sociopathic murderer. “I swear, your generation has completely forgotten common courtesy.”
I forced a smile on my face. “Well, this discourteous girl has to go. I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”
“You should come by for spaghetti on Sunday.”
“Okay.” A courteous spaghetti Sunday. Sounded awesome. “Bye.”
I looked at five apartments after that, then stopped at Target for a few groceries and two non–high school outfits. By the time I got home, it was almost dark and I was exhausted. I put away my groceries, then immediately changed into pajamas and parked myself on the couch. Jack was at Vanessa’s, his new “friend,” and Colin seemed to already be asleep because it was quiet behind his door, so I had all night to rule the living room.
Which was good because even though I was slowly getting caught up on Marriage in a Month, I still needed to binge three more episodes before I’d be up-to-date. I lay down and turned it on, but I was distracted by my phone and social media. I psychotically checked the comments when the Times posted one of my articles, and by “psychotically checked,” I meant refreshed the page every three-to-four minutes.
I was on my fiftieth refresh when I noticed I had a voicemail. I usually didn’t even listen to messages, because, like I’d told my mother, I hated talking on the phone. But it was a number I didn’t know, so I clicked on it.
“Hi, Olivia—it’s Jordyn in the office. Just wanted to let you know that your application was approved. Please call me tomorrow and we can talk about signing the lease and setting up your move-in date. Thanks.”
What? I couldn’t believe it. I listened to the message again. Holy shit! I was seriously going to live in the perfect loft apartment, for the same rent as all the suburban dumps I’d looked at that afternoon?
I ran over to Colin’s door and quietly knocked. “Colin?”
I didn’t want to wake him up, but I so wanted to wake him up. I was beyond excited but because of my lack of friends, I had no one to freak out with except him.
He pulled open the door, wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt and nice pants, and there was an undone tie hanging around his neck.
“Guess what.” I pictured the apartment and couldn’t help but squeal. “I got the apartment!”
“Shut up—for real?” He gave me a wide grin that was like the role model for all other smiles. “Congratulations!”
I squealed again and then we were hugging. It was a total friend hug, a hug of supportive congratulations, but as soon as it commenced my brain was shorting out from the feel of his hands wrapped around my waist.
The smell of his neck.
The bumpy musculature of his shoulders.
I pulled back, but when I did—holy damn—his blue eyes were hot. I licked my lower lip, about to blabber some bullshit small talk, when his hands came up to my face and his mouth came down on mine.
No drift, no lean, no subliminal staring at each other’s mouths as if to suggestively remind the other that kissing existed. No, this was decisive.
My fingers curled into the white cotton that covered his shoulders, and his mouth ate at mine like it was a ripe fruit and he was starved for its sweetness. Had been starved for an age. His lips were wild and aggressive, teasing and biting and making me purr into his mouth, but the way he held my cheeks left no question that all of the choices were mine to make.
I turned a little, backing against the doorframe so he could lean all of his body into mine.
And he did.
It was fire and passion and starvation, and I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and make the dumbest possible decision I could make.
But.
“Colin.” I panted his name through biting kisses. “What are we doing?”
“Fuck, Liv.” His eyes were dark and intense as he fed me razor-sharp kisses that rubbed his day’s stubble against my skin in the most delicious way. “I have no idea.”
I put my hands on his biceps—good God—and squeezed. “We should.” That tongue, shit. “Probably stop.”
“I know.” His teeth dragged over my earlobe and I felt it everywhere. “Why the hell am I kissing the biggest pain in the ass I know?”
I dug my fingernails into his skin as his mouth did wicked things. “Because I’m irresistible, you cocky dipshit.”