Page 136 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

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Laine

Group Chat

Hungover, furry mouthed, and with a rumbling stomach, I open my aching eyes and stop at the sight of Ang’s sleeping face inches from mine. He sleeps with his hands pressed together and tucked under his cheek, so his lips pucker and wrinkles mark near his eye as it squishes into his hands.

Holding my breath and praying he remains asleep, I draw my leg back, sliding it from between his and press my lips closed so I don’t audibly react to the feeling of his coarse hairs on my smooth skin.

How is it we’re both so afraid to show our cards during the day, but at night, we continue to twine together the way a grape vine moves around a trellis?

My phone vibrates on the bedside table. A constant buzzing, and the reason I’m now awake instead of cuddled up against Ang’s solid chest. I don’t turn over yet, but instead, I study his face the way I did yesterday while he slept and was unaware of my stare.

He’s an impenetrable wall.

Impervious to my every move.

I walk out of the bathroom and ask him to zip a dress I can easily do on my own.

Nothing.

Ask him to fasten a necklace. Jesus, even toddlers can do those.

Nothing.

Fancy clothes, heels, and a fancy dinner.

Nothing!

Two drinks down and a nice dinner seemed to help. At least he was playing back. A little bathroom fun in the smallest pyjamas I own.

But still, nothing!

What the hell is wrong with him?

Oh, I know. I’m broken, unworthy, used…and just to add a cherry on top, I’m his friend’s little sister.

Awesome.

Before I was broken, I was known among my friends for my stubborn nature and willingness to be the first to jump off that cliff. I guess Luc and I are similar in that way; he was the idiot of their pack, so I suppose that makes me the idiot of mine.

I was always the first to jump.

Always the loudest. The drunkest. The silliest.

So when Ang refused to give in to my stupidity last night, I channeled a little of that woman. I bent over the fridge and wiggled my hips, and when that didn’t end with him running at me, I threw all my cards down, spilled his drink, and lapped it up like a common dog.

And still, nothing happened.

Just fucking kiss me already!

I genuinely think he likes me. Jess swears he does, and Kane promises some fun if I simply go for it. They’re so sensitive to my fragile feelings, I doubt they’d lie. They wouldn’t throw me toward certain rejection, so that’s got to be a good thing, right?

Whether they’re telling the truth or not, I’m going with the former. I’m going with the assumption that Ang does like me, so it’s easier to approach him knowing his constant backing away isn’t rejection.

It’s simply a matter of tempting him over to the dark side.

Angelo Alesi’s life is about loyalty and honor, and his loyalty to the guys is the reason he keeps his hands to himself. The alternative – that he thinks I’m gross – just isn’t something my poor heart can consider. So I just… won’t.

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