Page 75 of Hypnotized By Love

“That’s what my mom always used to do when I was little.”

He grumbled a bit and then said, “It doesn’t seem sanitary.”

“But it makes the pain go away.”

“Or it’s spreading more germs into my open wound.”

“You don’t have an open wound. You’re just a little bit cut,” I said as I threw away the cotton ball. “Stop complaining. And you still haven’t answered my question. When did I invite you to break in?”

“When you were drunk and said you always wanted me to climb your trellis. Which I did not fall off of, by the way.”

“So coordinated,” I said sarcastically as I got out a Band-Aid and put it on his forehead.

“I thought you would find it romantic.”

That made me pause, my fingers holding the Band-Aid in place, and my heart started a slow, hard thudding. “Why would you want to do something romantic for me?”

“You know why, Sinclair.”

I suspected that I did. That Sierra knew, my mom, Nana, Bridget, Heather, possibly every person in this town.

But I wasn’t willing to admit it. How could I when this couldn’t go anywhere?

When I couldn’t afford to let him back into my heart?

Clearing my throat, I said, “There. All better.”

I threw away the empty wrapper and went back into my room. For some reason, I didn’t consider the fact that he would follow me. I rubbed my arms, suddenly feeling chilled by his revelation, and realizing that Sierra was right. There were feelings here. I didn’t understand them all yet, but something was going on, and my being freaked out in the dark was getting worse.

“Are we going to talk about that kiss?” he asked.

That made my heart thud even harder. “Wasn’t planning on it.” I remembered my sister urging me to speak to him about why I was mad, and this seemed as good a time as any. Maybe I should try to ease into it. Do one of those compliment-sandwich things where you start off nice. “I recently found out that you were Sierra’s friend when she needed you most.”

“I was. I still am.” He sat down on my bed cautiously, like he was worried about what I might do next.

“I can’t tell you what that means to me. Thank you.”

He paused for a beat before saying, “It feels weird, you being nice to me.”

“It feels weird to me, too.”

“But I still like it.”

Which led me to start thinking about things I liked, which very much included his lips on me, and I found myself saying, “And about that kiss? I need you to keep it quiet.”

“My lips are yours, Sinclair. I’m happy to keep them sealed or put them any other place you might like.” Like he could read my mind.

Fiery darts of pleasure exploded inside me, and it took all of my strength not to run over and throw myself at him. “Can we agree that us kissing was a mistake?”

“Sure, as long as we also agree that it will happen again at some point. Probably soon.”

“No, it won’t.”

“To quote you, ‘Disagree to agree.’”

Why did my limbs feel so heavy? “Why aren’t you at the fundraiser? Weren’t you going to volunteer?”

“I didn’t so much volunteer as I was voluntold I would participate. I did my part, though, and everything ran smoothly. Why weren’t you there?”

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