Page 11 of Facing Off
I ignore her suggestion and grab three cards at once. “What is your weirdest thing you like? And what’s the kind of music you listen to when you need to relax? And what’s the perfect gift someone can give you?”
Quinn’s voice echoes through the house. “Don’t play without me! I want this game to last all night!”
Sonya ticks a finger up. “The smell of gasoline.” Then another finger. “Heavy metal.” A third one. “Superpowers, specifically the ability to fast-forward through time so I no longer have to experience this moment.”
I clear my throat, stifling my laughter—because I’m loving this. Even if some of her answers aren’t serious, we’re having more of a real conversation together. Finally. “My turn to answer?—”
Sonya reaches over and knocks the cards out from my hand. “Pick new ones.”
I smirk. “Say pretty please, darling.”
“Are your survival instincts nonexistent?” she hisses. “Because Iwillmake you pay if you extend this game any longer than it needs to be.”
I inch closer.
So does she.
Our heads are lowered.
More heat curls inside me.Fuck. I’ll have to adjust my pants at this rate. It gets worse because I think I see her gaze linger on my mouth. A rustle of her head follows. She’s breathing deeply, too.
We both reach for more cards. Our hands bump. One moment of contact. Accidental. The most casual brush of skin.
How it feels like I’m about to jump off a plane makes no sense.
I wonder if she feels the same?
Her fingers freeze over the cards, then retreat like she’s been burned.
Oh. Out of nowhere, sweat collects in my curling hands. I uncurl them and press them on my pants.
Sonya scrambles to her feet. “I—I forgot. I’ve got somewhere to be. I’m leaving. Tell Quinn I’ll make it up to him another time.”
Without another word, she sprints away.
It takes me about ten seconds to register that she’s left her purse behind. It’s half-buried under pillows. I grab it and rush to the front door. It’s left ajar. Outside, she’s already hurrying down Quinn’s front steps.
I’m out the door like a bullet, not stopping to put shoes on. “Hey!”
“What?” she calls out without turning around, both hands working the fenced gate.
“Your purse.”
My answer makes her spin around. She stabs her hand out. “Toss it to me.”
When I don’t, she rolls her eyes, trying to look exasperated, but it’s not coming across like it usually does. She’s too flushed.
“Are you really leaving like this?” I ask, stepping a bit closer. “Quinn’s excited…”
I don’t want you to leave.
Her eyes flick to the house, then back to me. Her jaw ticks. “Yeah, well, I’m not used to…”
She trails off.
“Used to what?”
“I don’t do this kind of thing.”
