Page 17 of Spin The Bottle
She looks back at me, her throat bobbing as she swallows. Her mouth parts as a shaky breath escapes her, which makes my eyes dip down to her lips again, and she instinctively licks them. “Are you thinking about that kiss?” I ask her.
“You mean how bad it was?” she retorts. “Yeah, can’t forget it.”
I laugh; it’s impossible not to. “Cut the shit. The way you slipped your tongue in my mouth says the opposite.”
Her face heats as the words slip out of my mouth. She clamps her mouth shut, knowing I’m right. She liked it. She fucking liked the kiss we shared.
I wonder if it had gone on for longer if she would have grabbed my face, moaned into my mouth, sucked on my bottom lip. Fuck, I’m getting off track.
“Can I get your number?” I ask.
Her face contorts with laughter. “Why would I do that?”
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “So I can see you again.”
She shakes her head, looking down at the ground between us. “Sorry, I’m not interested.” She’s such a liar, can’t even look me in the face when she says that. The way she kissed me tells me she’s very much interested.
I take a step back from her. “You know, this playing hard-to-get thing you’ve got going on isn’t cute anymore.”
She looks up, narrowing her eyes at me as she crosses her arms, making her cleavage pop up through that bright green corset top clinging to her body. God. “Then stop playing,” she replies.
I lift an eyebrow. “So you admit it, you are playing with me.”
She sighs, turning her head to the side. “I didn’t say that.”
“So you’ll give me your number?”
Her head turns back to me, brows furrowed once again. “I didn’t say that either.”
“Alright,” I relent, laughing. “Then what are you saying?”
Her eyes lift. “I’m saying if you really want something, then maybe you have to chase it a bit.” She drops her arms and pushes past me, and I let her. Watching as she walks away from me, I press my fist to my mouth to stifle my laugh.
She wants my attention?
She’s fucking got it.
7
I’m not a patient man
I’ve always liked sweating.
Working my body to the max, exerting all of my energy into something, anything. It always helped clear my mind and made me focus on that one and only thing I was doing, nothing else.
I guess it’s why basketball came naturally to me when I was young. I had nothing else that was worth my time except a ball and a hoop. I remember seeing the kids from my school playing, watching their games, thinking I could do that. I could be out there playing with them and win.
But I had never been part of a team before; the closest I got was a guy who had been watching me play at the park and asked if he could play against me. I wiped him clean off the floor, scoring every time. It was easy. As natural as breathing.
It was the one thing I had to look forward to. Through all the hits and punches and dirty looks, there was one thing I liked. I was good at it, and I worked hard to get where I am. Basketball is my future. It’s the only thing I have going, and I won’t mess it up, no matter what I have to do.
The ball pressed up against my chest flies into the air, and Jordan catches it instantly.
“Good pass, Pierce,” Coach shouts. Jordan dribbles the ball, attempting to score, and I jump, attempting to block, but then I feel the ball hit my fingertips before it goes in.
“Fuck.”
Jordan laughs. “Bad luck, Cap.”
