Page 53 of Anti-Player

Chapter Fifteen

Paige

––––––––

When Mikel pulls upon the street in his glossy white Mustang, I stay where I am on the street. I think I'll wait for him, and I play a few scenarios in my head about what I'll do or say when he approaches me on the front step of my childhood home.

But then he climbs out of the driver's side, looks at me over the hood, and I abandon my plans.

He makes it three steps before I rush forward, arms crushing his middle, body sandwiching on his while our lips connect. All the little quips vanish. I'm out of snark, no cynical jokes, no playful jabs. My body and mind are drained from all that's happened and as much as my mother's familiar energy brings comfort, this place here... this spot in Mikel's arms...

This is rejuvenation.

“I missed you so much,” he says, clutching my cheeks, then palming my hips, my ass, back up to my hair. I'm dizzy and then he says, “Paige... I love you.” Did I say dizzy? Now I'm inside out.

Groaning, I wrap my fingers in his soft hair and kiss him again. His firm grip forces me away—I search his eyes in confusion.

Mikel, serious as a grave, says, “Tell me you love me, too.”

I'm swept up in his fierce demand. His subtle cry for affirmation. He has to know it, I admitted it on the stream, but he's asking for it now... asking like he needs to hear it a hundred times more. “I love you, Mikel. If you don't know that by now, you really are an anti-player.”

His blue eyes melt like glaciers on the sun. He starts to kiss me with new desperation, then my mother's voice pipes up behind us. “Ah, so this must be the boy.”

Closing my eyes, I laugh against Mikel's chest. He dislodges me, turning me so we both see my mother leaning on her cane, her face clearly amused. He chuckles, then gives an awkward wave. “Hello. I'm Mikel Hause.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mikel,” she replies. She shoots me a knowing glance. “My daughter usually has terrible taste. Time away from home has helped her there.”

“Mom,” I sigh. But I'm grinning. I haven't stopped since Mikel touched me.

“Can I take your daughter for a drive?” he asks.

“You don't need her permission,” I mutter.

He winks at me, and when my mom shakes her head and turns her back on us, he whispers, “I know.”

“Okay,” she shouts, half inside the front door. “Have fun, you two. And Mikel? Take good care of my daughter. I don't want to see her crying next time she comes around.”

---