“Yeah?” I breathed out, my breaths brushing against her lips—her full, plump lips.
“Kiss me back,” she ordered, and so I did.
My lips.
Pressed against...
Hers.
I kissed her gently at first, trying to ignore the way my jeanswere tightening as my cock registered the fact that I was kissing a girl—and not just any girl,thegirl. I was kissing Shay Gable, and every time our lips touched, she stole a piece of me.
I kissed her harder and deeper next, parting her lips slightly to slide my tongue into her mouth as reality settled in. I wanted her.
I wanted her so bad it hurt.
But then, she stopped the kiss.
She pulled back, her skin flushed and her cheeks rosy as ever. She combed her fingers through her hair and gave me a wary smile. “There,” she whispered, slowly rubbing her thumb along her bottom lip before she nervously bit that same lip.
Geez, Chick.
Bite it again.
“There’s your kiss, Romeo,” she said, opening her door and climbing out.
“Thank you, Juliet,” I said breathlessly. At least I thought I spoke. My mind was so fogged, I didn’t know which way was up. I readjusted my crotch region and leaned in her direction. “You think we should keep practicing? For the show. I want to put on the best performance possible.”
She laughed, and that sound made me harder.
Note to self, don’t wear jeans when around Shay. Sweatpants from here on out.
“Good night, Landon.” She shut the car door.
Landon.
Say it again.
She began to walk away, and I was still leaning in her direction like a desperate puppy dog craving its owner’s attention. I hurriedly rolled down the passenger window and called her way, “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow!”
She looked back my way, and her lips spread wide as herhands landed against her chest. “That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
We quotedRomeo and Juliet. I began the line, and she finished it.
What the fuck was that?
And who the fuck was I?
I was having a hard time recognizing myself, but there I was, sitting in my car, at half past two in the morning, quoting Shakespeare to the girl I’d once hated.Hated—past tense. Truth was, I couldn’t have told you the last time I had hated Shay. Maybe when she sat with me in my bedroom last year after Lance’s funeral, maybe never. All I knew was I loved her taste.
I waited to make sure she made it back inside the house, and then I plopped backward into the driver’s seat. My heart rapidly beat against my rib cage.
She did that to me. She made my heart turn back on.
Maybe it was all part of the game. Maybe she was just getting in my head to make me feel things toward her. Maybe it was all fake, but in that moment, it felt real enough for me to not care. I couldn’t recall the last time something felt real to me.
15Shay
I couldn’t sleep after Landon dropped me off at Eleanor’s house. My mind kept spinning about my family’s situation. Or, as Mima called it, the Martínez family curse.