Now we have Anastasia and Sabrina around all the time, the urge to keep the peace is much bigger. When I finally made it inside, Henry was pounding his fist into Aaron’s face, and Bobby and JJ were pulling two guys off him. I don’t even think Henry noticed they were there on him, and the second I got him off Aaron, he started on some other guy like a fucking douchebag.
I picked Aaron off the floor, not starting anything, just wanting him to leave, and he swung for me. He punches like a kid that’s never had a fight before in his life, but he got a good shot at my face and managed to split my cheek a little.
I’ve been hit harder by Sabrina when I’ve eaten the last of her favorite cereal.
Pinning him to the wall by his throat, the temptation to take out all my hatred was unbelievable. Feeling his pulse hammer beneath my fingers, my grip tightened, and his eyes locked with mine. He struggled against me as I threatened him, telling him if he ever came back here, I’d do something he’d finally have a reason to get me in trouble over.
Even in the heat of the moment, I’m not reckless enough to not see the trap Aaron was laying out. Skinner is itching to pull me up for everything; I can’t give him ammunition.
Stas huffs as she roots around my desk, moving books out of the way. Her routine is very specific, so I know she’s looking for her hairbrush, because brushing her hair comes after brushing her teeth. It’s amazing having the most predictable girl on the planet.
“I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, Anastasia,” I tell her, watching her cute butt swish about. “Because I’m ignoring you.”
I hear a scoff, but she doesn’t bite.
“And I know where your hairbrush is, but I can’t tell you because I’m ignoring you.”
I expect her to run over here and jump on me, pin me down and demand the information. Maybe kiss it out of me? I don’t know. A guy can wish. She doesn’t though, not even close; she throws up her middle finger and keeps searching.
Her frustration is growing, so I’m biding my time, patiently waiting for her to cave. She looks over at me sprawled out on the bed, and I think she’s cracking, but instead, she works out where her hairbrush is and comes storming over.
Her hands land on her waist and her hip snaps to the side. “Stop staring at my breasts and show me your hands.”
“Hi, baby. Nice to hear your voice again.”
“I know you’re hiding it from me, and you’ve been watching me search for fifteen minutes knowing you’ve got it,” she grumbles, fighting hard to keep the smirk from her lips. She’s fighting her amusement with her frustration because she knows I’ve outsmarted her. “I hate you.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny because I’m currently ignoring you.”
She takes a step closer to me; close enough for me to grab and give her body a tug, causing her body to tumble into mine with anoompf.
“It’s behind the pillow, isn’t it?” My fingers dig into her sides until she’s squirming, squealing, and laughing, and I know I’ve got her back. “You’resoannoying.”
Her body is warm and soft against mine. She peers up at me with flushed cheeks and a relaxed smile. I brush the stray hairs from her face, kissing the tip of her nose.
She sighs and gently brushes underneath the Band-Aid on my cheek. “I don’t need you to defend me,” she whispers.
Her sassy, stubborn nature is what I’ve come to expect, but sometimes she blinds me with her vulnerability.
“I know you don’t, but you’re worth defending. Every cut, bruise, every single pang of anger or frustration. It’s all worth it. I’d throw my last punch defending you because you deserve to have someone be that person for you, and there’s no one more qualified for the job than me.”
Tears line the rim of her eyes, threatening to fall, but she blinks them away, sucking in a shaky breath. “Kiss me.”
I don’t need to be told twice, and when my lips meet hers, things don’t feel so bad. There’s something different about us, something deeper, something real. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now, knowing someone she cares about is betraying her trust.
“I promise I’ll tell you everything in the morning, okay?”
“Okay, bub.”
* * *
She’s already awakewhen I open my eyes, and I wonder how long she’s been overthinking.
Promising to tell her everything is one of the things on my mind too. Her head is buried in my chest, legs intertwined with mine, and I’m not sure how I’m ever expected to wake up alone again.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“The showerhead in your bathroom.”