After barely seeing or speaking to him this week, he’s here on my doorstep in a henley and jeans.
“Hi.” I brace my hands on the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”
Devlin takes a step forward, into the light. He peers up at me, eyes hooded. There are bags underneath them, a sign he’s not rested. I’ve never seen him like this.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Mom nibbling on her crust, trying to look like she’s not listening. I close the door behind me and sit on the top step. An uncomfortable tightness sits in my chest. It chafes to face Devlin while sitting in front of my sad house. The trailer could easily fit in his garage. Twice, probably.
When he still doesn’t answer me, I pry further. “You’ve avoided me all week.”
We haven’t spoken since the kiss at his practice match. Even in English, Devlin arrives right when the bell rings and leaves as soon as class ends.
Devlin takes out a cigarette and lights it, the amber glow of the flame flickering over the sharp planes of his face. He takes a deep drag, then tips his head back slightly to exhale. The plume of acrid smoke curls in the air, tickling my nostrils.
I cover my nose with the sleeve of my oversized hoodie to filter out the smoke. “So we’re just going to have some one-sided conversation here?”
His gaze snaps to mine. A muscle in his jaw jumps. His cheeks hollow as he inhales another puff.
“Talk to me,” I demand, getting annoyed. I jolt to my feet and rush down the steps to get in his face. At the first hint of leather and ginger, my heart skips. I actually missed it. I’ll make him answer me. “Why did you come here if you’re still ignoring me?”
Devlin plucks the cigarette from between his lips, ashing it with an absent flick. He’s infuriating.
Throwing my hands up, I ask, “How do you even know where I live?”
Devlin grows agitated, the sharp line of his jaw tense as he tosses his half-finished cigarette to the gravel and crunches his shoe on it. He sweeps his gaze away, only to cut back to me like he needs to keep me in his sight.
I’m worried something happened to his family or something to put that haunted shadow in his dark eyes.
“I followed you home once. So I’d know how to get to you if you got away.”
A chill zips down my spine. “You...what?”
Devlin purses his lips and shrugs. “I needed to know, so I followed you. I’ve known where you live this whole time.”
“Okay, stalker. That’s wrong on so many levels.”
He plucks at the long sleeves of my hoodie. It’s then that I realize I’m in cotton shorts with yellow ducks printed on them. He lifts a brow and grazes my thigh right under the hem.
My pulse thunders. When I stumble away, I wince, stubbing my bare toe on a big piece of gravel.
Devlin drags me back by my hips, skimming his fingers under the hem of the hoodie. I swallow, fighting back the flutter. Our kiss wasn’t real, and neither is this. He’s playing with me.
Struggling to mask the true hurt in my words, I mutter, “I thought you threw me away.”
“I don’t throw people away,” Devlin says, cold and precise. His grip on my hips flexes. “I use them when they’re useful to me.”
My head jerks back. “That’s the same thing.”
He slides his hand higher to the side of my stomach. His touch is hot, sending sparks over my skin.
“It’s not.”
Devlin presses his face into my neck and exhales. The hot gust of air makes me shiver. His tongue darts out and tastes my skin.
This is crazy. He’s the one who stayed away all week, and now he’s holding me like a man possessed, unwilling to let me go. After hesitating with my hands hanging in midair, I rest them on his sides, playing with the soft material of the henley shirt clinging to his abs.
“What kind of wicked siren are you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”