Page 25 of Give You Up

Syn hasn’t left her seat. She’s digging into her fries, having finished her double patties burger. That girl can eat. Watching her devour the slabs of meat . . . My dick crowds my pants. Scolding my dick, I sit and discreetly adjust B-man, then edge closer until my knees touch Syn’s.

“How’s your food?”

Her mouth is full. She gives me the thumbs-up sign. Of fucking course, my gaze drops to her tits. Thumb. Tits. Doesn’t add up, but nothing makes sense where my body is concerned when near Syn.

She’s filled out since senior year of high school. Her breasts are fuller. Like way fuller, from A-cup to the high end of a B-cup. How do I know about breasts and bra sizes? My cousins talk about their “girls” all the time. In front of me. Fucking awkward.

Her breasts are fuller, but the rest of her is the same. Slim build. Shapely legs. Bright, big, beautiful eyes. Full red lips. Smart. Funny. I miss her long hair. But if Syn is happy with shorter locks, then I am all in too.

Speaking of hair, I am staring too hard at her locks. She ducks her head and hides her enjoyment of my attention full on her. That’s another thing I never tire of. I’d look at her and think to myself, I am one lucky bastard a kindhearted, quiet girl like Syn is willing to put up with a loud-mouth, hot-tempered jackass like me.

I reach out, and cradling her jaw in my palm, I strum my thumb over the arch of her cheek. She meets my gaze, and the tip of her tongue darts out and flicks her lip ring. That sliver of metal is hot, and craving a taste, I lean into her.

“Taron?”

I stroke across her cheek. Watch her pupils dilate and her lips part, giving me a hint of the tip of her tongue peeking from between her teeth.

“Yes, Pixie Dust?” My voice is low, husky, like I’ve just woken up from the best wet dream.

Before she can answer, there’s a buzzing noise from her bag. Blinking, she straightens, having tipped forward into my space. Man, I’d like to get all up in her space more often.

She pulls out her cell, glances at the screen, and then quickly says, “Gotta take. Sorry.”

“Should I leave?”

Tell me no.

“No.” She pats my knee, and I am in heaven. “Hi, Bounce. What’s up? Don’t call you that? Hey, if the shoe fits. I know, you’re sorry. You’re right. You’ve apologized a gazillion times. School’s great.”

She smiles, pleased with this “Bounce” person for a change rather than annoyed. Who the fuck is this person, and if it’s a guy, when can I punch his face to the back of his skull?

“First day went swell. I spilled coffee on this hot dude. He’s a football player. Stay away from them? I’m planning on it.”

She has the nerve to wink at me. Fucking winked at me. Charmed, I tip forward. My arm falls from the counter. My hand cups her hip.

“Why are you calling rather than texting? Oh, you missed my voice? Had to get in your dose of snark? That can be done with GIFs and emojis too, you know.”

Sarcasm. I like. A fucking lot. My other hand cups her other hip, and I have her sandwiched between my muscular arms and my thick thighs.

Then her voice softens and all I see is red.

“I miss you too. Thanks for calling and checking up on me on my first day at school. It wasn’t what I had in mind. Yes, I know I shouldn’t plan my life out up to the day I think I’ll die.”

She cringes.

“I’m sorry, that was morbid. Is there a bright spot to my day? There are many. One, I didn’t get overly lost. I know, right? My fourth year and I still get the buildings mixed up. Most important bright spot, I met a new person who I think will be one of my best friends.”

Her gaze locks on mine, and I can’t breathe. The warmth in her eyes and how bright her blue-gray eyes shine for me . . . Like the brightest star in the constellation.

And that’s how I know coming here, being with Syn again, was the right decision.

11

Syn

Taron dropped me off in front of my car, and we didn’t discuss anymore him wanting me to be his personal professional snuggler.

I’m grateful he hadn’t.

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