Page 31 of Selling Out
I love her quirky sense of style, especially in contrast to what she wore for the concert. She’s all about loose and comfortable clothes. Both of us might be able to fit inside those overalls she’s wearing. It’d be a tight fit, but I wouldn’t mind being nice and cozy with her. Until she slapped me.
I can’t really blame her for thinking I’m nothing but a cocky bro. It’s my image in the media, and it’s been easier to live up—or down—to those expectations than to swim against the tide by countering them. Like most people, Mia doesn’t take me seriously. It’s why it’s been easier to go for flings with fans everynow and then than to try for anything long-term. But Mia’s got me thinking farther ahead, and that’s scary.
I turnand look at the bustling square in front of us. Multiple church spires, the iconic turreted towers, a huge statue, and a bunch of colorful buildings envelop an enormous, cobbled plaza. People sit on benches, zip around on segways, and stroll through the lamplit square. It’s even prettier than I remember it.
Using my finger, I tip Mia’s chimney cake to stop it from spilling warm Nutella all over the cobblestones.
She blinks and readjusts the dessert. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Want to walk around?”
She nods, still distracted by everything there is to look at in a place like this. We head for the center of the square, then toward the clock tower, eating our chimney cakes and talking about the concerts as we pause at the dials and rings, then continue along the perimeter of the square.
“This way isn’t all that much less messy than my way, you know,” she says, grabbing one of the last pieces of her chimney cake as we come to a bench under a group of trees. Her fingers are covered in Nutella and melted whipped cream.
“By all means, do it your way,” I say, tossing the wrapper of mytrdelníkinto the nearby garbage can.
She looks at me for a second, then swipes my cheek with her chocolatey fingers, her expression full of satisfaction. She looks like she just recited the first fifty numbers of pi correctly.
Before she can run away, I snatch her wrist and pull her against me. She’s still smiling, her eyes shifting to my cheek, where I can feel the Nutella. “You sure you want to play this game?” I ask.
“Play nice now.”
I can see the little that’s left of her chimney cake in myperipheral vision. It’s the dregs, which means it’s where all the Nutella has pooled. Bingo.
She anticipates my next move, stretching it as far away as she possibly can given the hold I have on her other hand. But she’s at a disadvantage, and any thought of playing fairly is long gone. I’m a man on a mission, and that mission is revenge. Or keeping Mia close.
Let’s go with the first option.
Still holding her wrist, I pin it behind her back and pull her against me, then reach for her chimney cake with my other hand.
She struggles, but she’s laughing—a laugh I’ve only heard from a distance, usually when she’s with Kelly and Rose. It’s close now, though. So close I’m tempted to pretend I can’t reach thetrdelníkjust so I can keep hearing it.
I hook my fingers into the wrapper holding the last of her chimney cake, vaguely aware of the glob of Nutella I manage to snag, since my mind is hyper-focused on the feel of Mia against me.
But the game’s up now. I have no excuse to detain her any longer. I keep her against me, though, as I take my Nutella-covered fingers and hold them up threateningly between our faces.
Her eyes are alight with energy as she watches my hand. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I could swear something in them says, “Do it.I dare you.”
“Hmm,” I say, letting my eyes wander all over her face. “Where shall I begin my masterpiece? Ah. I know.”
I press two Nutella-soaked fingers to her lips, following their line like I’m putting lipstick on her. Surprisingly, she stays still, but those eyes… they promise revenge—revenge formyrevenge, which was revenge forherrevenge. This is getting complicated.
My fingers trace the cupid’s bow, stop at the edge, then continue down the slope of her full bottom lip, which lookseven more deliciously kissable than usual. Maybe this wasn’t my wisest idea…
I finish up and pull my hand away, tilting my head to the side to admire my work.
Mia’s brows go up, waiting for my verdict while also communicatingvengeance is mine. That message shouldn’t excite me, but it does.Miaexcites me. And even though I just ate an entire chimney cake full of Nutella, my imagination is running wild with the thought of kissing off every last bit of what I just put on her lips.
My gaze flicks to hers as I realize I’ve been staring at her lips for… minutes? Hours?
Her eyes are on mine, and I’m positive she knows what I’m thinking. What I’m not sure of is whatshe’sthinking. She’s not struggling. She’s not shooting daggers at me with her eyes. She’s just… watchful. Waiting to see what I’ll do.
She didn’t try to break free when I ran my finger along her lips. Would she let me kiss her too? Something in her eyes tells me she just might.
Suddenly, she drops her gaze, turning her head to the side and licking the Nutella off her lips inconspicuously.
Moment passed.
