Page 144 of Shut Up and Score
Micah’s grin widens. “Can you blame him?”
Will shakes his head from the floor, leaning against the side of the beanbag. “Guess not.”
I huff out a laugh, nudging Micah’s knee with mine. He doesn’t move away; if anything, he leans more into me, the scentof my shampoo curling up every time he shifts. He smells good with my scent all over him. And it distracts me.
By the next round, we’ve both got our knees bumping in time with the music, talking shit to Ty and Will without moving from our spot. Between races, Micah twists, grabs the soda sitting on the nightstand, and hands it to me without looking away from the screen.
“Still going down next round,” I mutter before taking a sip.
He smirks, taking the can back. “Not a chance, princess.”
“Princess?” I bite back a smile at the new nickname, eyes flicking to where his fingers wrap around the can—long and steady, nails clean, knuckles brushing mine for a beat too long before he leans back into place.
He grins over at me. “Yeah.” The countdown for the next race starts, and he elbows me lightly. “Don’t choke under pressure, Taylor. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your adoring public.”
Ty snorts. “Pretty sure your ‘adoring public’ is just you, Blackman.”
Micah doesn’t miss a beat. “Exactly. And I’mveryhard to impress.”
I roll my eyes, leaning just enough that my shoulder brushes his. “You’re not that hard to impress. I just have to win.”
“Mm,” he hums, fake-considering it. “Or you could lose and let me gloat. That’s almost better.”
The race kicks off, and I’m determined not to let him distract me again—except he keeps leaning closer when he’s about to hit me with a shell, murmuring littlegotchacomments in my ear, his breath warm against my skin, sending pleasant little shivers down my spine.
I finish in third. He finishes first.
Micah raises his arms pretending he just won the Super Bowl. “Andthatis why you don’t challenge me, princess.”
“You’re insufferable,” I say, even as my mouth curves into a smile.
He tips his head toward me, smirking. “Yeah. And you love it.”
And, yeah…he’s right. I love him.
Ty’s already queuing up the next race, but Micah leans back against the wall beside me like he’s settling in for something more important thanMario Kart. Our knees are still touching, and at some point, his hand found its way to rest against my thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles that have nothing to do with the game.
I glance over at him, catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips, and my chest does that stupid, full ache thing. It’s easy to forget we’re not alone when he’s looking at me like that—like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and maybe he’s thinking it too.
“You two need a moment?” Luke’s voice cuts in from the doorway from his bathroom, all dry amusement. I didn’t even notice him getting up.
Micah doesn’t even flinch. “Maybe,” he says, casual as anything. “You offering to clear the room for us?”
Luke grins, pushing off the doorframe. “Don’t tempt me. Ty, Will—think we should give them some privacy?”
Ty snickers without looking up from the screen. “Nah. Let ‘em suffer.”
Will lifts his soda in a lazy salute. “Public displays of affection build character.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning, and Micah’s hand squeezes my thigh once before letting go so he can grab his controller again. “Guess we’re giving them what they want, then,” he murmurs, low enough that only I hear it.
And I can’t help it—I lean in just enough for my shoulder to brush his again, my voice matching his quiet. “It builds character.”
Micah’s mouth curves, that slow, wicked smile that always makes my stomach flip. “Guess I’ll have to keep testing your character, then,” he murmurs back, eyes still on the screen but voice meant for me alone.
I bump his knee with mine, pretending to focus on the countdown for the next race, but my chest is too full for me to care much about winning. His scent, the warmth of him pressed against my side, the fact that we’re here—open, unbothered, together—is enough to make the rest of the room fade to background noise.
Luke makes a dramatic sigh from where he’s leaning against his desk. “God, you’re disgusting. It’s beautiful.”
