The bathroom door slammed shut.
Exhaling, I let my head fall back against the headboard and rubbed my face with both hands. I hadn’t meant to provoke her, but somehow that was exactly what I’d done. Now instead of tipsy, mellow Ellie to share a bed with, I had angry, resentful Ellie. I probably owed her an apology, especially after the shitty night she’d just had, but I’d give her a minute or so to cool down.
With my eyes closed and my head a little woozy from the wine, I let my mind wander back to that night six years ago in Tanner Ford’s basement. I didn’t have much talent when it came to memorizing shit for school, but I remembered everything about that night.
Ellie had cleaned up after the dunk tank incident, and she’d been wearing a super short skirt, which was rare for her—maybe she’d even borrowed it from someone. She sat over on one side of the room with a bunch of girls, while I played air hockey with my friends, stealing looks at her legs from the corner of my eye. As always, she refused to even glance in my direction. She was like the one girl at school who wouldn’t give me the time of day, and it drove me crazy because she’d grown up to be fucking gorgeous.
I probably shouldn’t have dunked her fifty times, but the opportunity had been too tempting to resist. And she’d gotten me back with all those pies in the face! We were even.
But it felt like something was unfinished between us. Some tension lingered. Or maybe I was just curious.
So later, when we were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, I pretended to pull her name from the hat. When she heard me say her name, her eyes met mine, a little defiantly—for a moment, I thought she might refuse.
But she stood up, tugged her skirt down a little, and walked into the large cedar closet without a word. As everyone clapped and made obscene noises around me, I followed her in. Right before the door closed behind us, I heard someone say, “I’ll set the timer!”
The door slammed, and we were alone in the dark.
“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she announced imperiously.
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“Can I try to change your mind?”
She laughed. “Sure.”
“You think I won’t be able to?” My eyes were adjusting to the dark, and I took a step closer to her.
“No, but . . . go ahead and try. Just respect my rules.”
My heart hammered wildly with the challenge. “What are your rules?”
“Don’t touch any private parts, not even over my clothes. Stop if I say no. And don’t talk.”
“Why can’t I talk?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Because it will all be lies, and I’m not interested, Gianni.”
“Okay.” I moved closer to her, so close my chest bumped her forearms, and my lips brushed her forehead. “But is it okay to touch your, um, public parts?”
“I—I guess.”
I took her by the wrists and put her arms down by her sides, then dropped to my knees in front of her.
She sucked in her breath, and I grinned.
EIGHT
ELLIE
Inside the bathroom, I scrubbed my teeth with enough force to wear off the enamel and stared at my face in the mirror—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips stained a little from the wine. My chest rose and fell with quick, heavy breaths.
It wasn’t fair, how he could still get to me. He didn’t play fair.
Not when we were kids. Not tonight. And certainly not in that closet.
I could still smell the cedar.
Scowling, I spit and rinsed out my mouth, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
Then I closed my eyes, remembering how he’d dropped to his knees in front of me.
My breath caught.
I was scared—not that Gianni would break the rules, but that he wouldn’t even have to. The truth was, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so badly, I could hardly stand it—and I hated myself for it.
Why should I want him to kiss me when he’d done nothing but torment me my entire life? When he’d made a sport out of kissing girls at school? When he obviously didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself? Why should a guy like that be the one I secretly dreamed about? The one I thought about at night? The one I wished more than anything would whisper to me in the dark?
And speaking of dark.
He brushed one hand over the curve of my left hip.
He touched the inside of my right ankle and slowly dragged his fingertips up the inside of my leg. When he passed my knee, I trembled, whether in fear or anticipation I wasn’t sure, but his hand stopped short of my inner thigh.