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Our eyes meet, and there’s so much I want to say. Don’t dress up for him; dress up for me, to start. Let’s stay in so I can have you all to myself, maybe. Or even It’s torture, teaching you how to date other guys.
“Not like the other night. Or the other morning.” I swallow. “You don’t hug me. You don’t put your arm around me anymore. You don’t…” It sounds so stupid. “You don’t tickle me. And you move out of the way so I don’t accidentally touch you.”
“You’re my type,” Hayden says like it hurts him. “More than anyone.” His head drops to my shoulder, and he takes a deep inhale, his fist coming to the wall beside my head on his shaky exhale. “I want you, Darcy,” he murmurs against my neck, and I shiver. “I want you so bad I can’t stay away. If you want things to stay the way they are, you need to leave my bedroom right now.”
God, she’s fucking stunning. The color of her eyes, every eyelash, the slope of her nose, her Cupid’s bow and the swell of her lips—every part of Darcy is perfection. Like nature gave her the best of everything, hand selected for her.
When the game packets are passed out, I open mine to an instant photo of that stupid gnome in my hot tub, wearing Darcy’s sunglasses. Thinking of you - xo Daniel is written in her writing. Volkov eyes the photo. “You two are weird.” My face hurts, I smile so hard. “I know.” I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love her, I realize. I’ve loved her for years. Maybe since she walked into English class that first week of university, or the first conversation we had about The Northern Sword, or the first time I opened my blinds and screamed at the weird gnome peering into the window while she collapsed on my bed, laughing her ass off. Or maybe I fell a little in love with her every time I saw her, every time we laughed together or texted or hugged, until I was at full capacity and head over fucking heels for her.
She doesn’t even look at Jess, she just keeps her affectionate gaze locked on me. “I missed you, baby,” she says in a soft voice. Baby? My brain starts to slur, wading through warm, sluggish feelings as I grin down at her, probably wearing a dopey, stupid expression. “I missed you, too,” I say. What is happening?
“Uh-huh.” He chews his bottom lip. “Or, I thought I did. After we lost our virginity, she wasn’t interested in more. Apparently, I was fun enough for her to tell her friends about, though.” His expression turns wry. “I wanted to be good in bed, but I turned out to be…” He swallows. “Too good, I guess. I’m the hookup guy, not the boyfriend guy.”
“You said you cut it off before it gets serious. You always tell women upfront that you’re not interested in a relationship.” “I’d rather be clear from the beginning than get my hopes up.” Oh god. The rules are for him, not for the women he dates. My heart sinks.
