Page 46 of Best Served Cold
Noah’s cheeks went red. He’d shaved his scruff off. It was weird to see so much of his face.
“You liked being brought on stage,” I continued.
His blush deepened.
“Bet you liked everyone seeing just how much you were enjoying yourself.” I flicked my gaze to his crotch, then swept it back up.
He shot me a flat look. “It’s not like I was the only one who got hard.”
“How do you know that wasn’t from being on stage? What if I have a performance kink?”
“Do you?” he asked, his brow knitting with confusion.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to fuck with my head.”
“Whyever would you think that?” I smiled serenely at him.
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be an innocent face, but it’s serving crazy with a side of serial killer.”
I smiled wider.
“Now you just look deranged.”
I shrugged.
“You’re really annoying when you want to be.”
“It’s a gift.”
“So, are you like, a gymnast…or something?”
“Or something.”
“Why did you tell me to come out here?” he asked.
“Probably the same reason you’re carrying those around.” I nodded to the cigarettes he was still holding.
He looked at them in surprise, like he was remembering he had them.
“Do you want one?” I asked.
He looked up. “No.”
I held out my hand.
He hesitated, then slapped the package into my palm. “You smoke?”
“Not these.” I held them up. “Last chance before I trash them.”
“Go for it. You a fan of four-twenty?” he asked as I crushed the packet, making sure to snap every one of the cancer sticks inside.
“Yup. You?”
He nodded, his gaze on the ruined smokes.
“Why’d you come here? For real?” I shoved the package into my pocket.
