Page 117 of To Love or to Lose
I’ve never seen her this way, so conflicted with her own feelings.
“No,” I say strongly. “Nothing between us has ever been a mistake, Genova. Nothing.”
“Even when you smashed my face in with a ball of ice?” She asks, a glint of amusement lacing her expression.
I push her arms down so they’re at her sides and her hands are no longer holding my jaw. “That’s not funny,” I say, grabbing her face. “You’re too pretty to joke about having your face smashed in.”
Her eyebrows knit together, confusion covering her features. “You think I’m pretty?”
My lips brush against hers. “I think you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. Even when you bicker with me and tell me you hate me,” I answer. “You always wondered why there were times I didn’t argue back, and it was because I couldn’t take my eyes off you long enough to form a good rebuttal.”
Genevieve takes my bottom lip in between her teeth. “I still hate you,” she says as her smile brightens.
“If that’s the only way for you to kiss me like you just did, then I should start thinking of more ways to make you hate me.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“I know.” My lips are still lightly touching hers. “But if you want it to be, I’m willing to play.”
“We’re still rivals. You can’t fall for me.” She sighs, pulling her head back. “God, what are we doing?” She runs her hand over her face.
“Woah.” I grab her hand. “Stop.”
“I’m being serious, Jameson.” She pauses. “We can’t like each other.”
My hands move back to each side of her face, forcing her to make eye contact with me. “Use your heart instead of your head for once.”
She rolls her eyes. “The heart is an organ used to pump blood inside your body, not give you unrealistic emotions.”
Her logic is sickening at times. “Use your metaphorical heart then.”
“Might as well have told me to use my amygdala,” she mutters.
The amygdala is a part of the brain in the temporal lobe that’s primarily involved in triggering emotions.
“The amygdala also controls anger.”And love, and sexual desire.“And we both know you don’t need any more of that.” I smirk as she smacks my chest.
“My metaphorical heart is beating,” she says mockingly. “Now, what do you want to tell me?”
I kiss her again, pressing our foreheads together as her hand grips the hair near the nape of my neck.
When I pull away, Genevieve doesn’t open her eyes right away. Her hands are still around my neck, and this time after we kiss, she doesn’t retreat.
When her eyes finally blink up at mine, I ask with a hoarse voice, “Do you feel that?” I press my hand on her chest where her heart lays.
“Yeah,” she answers, breathless. “Metaphorically, of course.”
I feel her rapid heart rate beneath my touch. “That is your heart,” I tell her. “It’s not just an organ pumping blood, it’s beating faster under my grasp. There’s nothing metaphorical about that.”
A grin breaks out on her face, and she pulls me closer. “Kiss me again,” she whispers.
I do, and as I kiss her, I come to the conclusion that, for the near future, it is all I want to do.
Chapter Thirty-One
125 days until graduation
Hungover and walking into the Callaghan’s house in its completely normal state is a mind fuck. Last night, all the couches were replaced with beer pong tables, and the dining room’s China cabinet was missing in place of a DJ.
