Sixteen

Not sure where I went wrong, but the pounding of my heart against the outer walls of my chest and the residual pulsing of my lips is proof that I've lost any shred of decency. I just kissed my brother's coach's daughter. The coach I'm deceiving on a regular basis by having the gall to pose as his player and parade around with a stick and pads like I earned my place on his team.

And Chantelle and I didn't just kiss. We melted into each other. Like thoroughly and completely engaged in a heated back and forth of desperate hands and sharp intakes of breath.

To top it all off, I want more of it. Everything she's willing to give, I will take and never ask questions. Because despite how furious she makes me, she is breathtaking. And infuriating. And the most interesting thing that's happened to me since…I can't remember when.

The maddeningly attractive woman pauses on the sidewalk with her hands on her hips, waiting for my direction. "Which truck?"

"Uh, that one." I point to Joel's beater that he refuses to trade in for an upgrade.

She walks over and assesses the back tire like she's some expert on cars. I can't help but roll my eyes. "Is this necessary?" I ask. "I already told you it had a flat."

She whirls around and pins me with an annoyed glare. "It doesn't hurt to confirm." She casts one last look toward Archer's, then says, "I'll take you home." Without giving me a chance to accept or decline, she stalks off until we come to a motorcycle with a hot pink helmet hanging off the handlebar.

She picks up the helmet and shoves it into my stomach. "Here. Put this on."

Recovering from my shock, I sputter. "Uh, what? I'm not…no, this is…just no."

Everything about her posture says she's quickly becoming exasperated with me. "Do you want to be seen out here together? How's that gonna look? Just put the helmet on and get on the back of my bike."

"You're in a dress!" I point to her outfit, hating that I need to state the obvious, but come on. "You can't ride in that."

She cocks her head as she lifts up her dress to reveal black leggings and boots. "Watch me." With that, she ties the skirt in a knot, grabs on to the bike, swings a leg over, and cranks the engine. "Now stop arguing and get on."

With a grumble, I yank the helmet over my head and fasten the chin strap. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever had to do in my entire life."

"What was that?" she calls over the engine.

"Nothing. Just said I hope you know how to drive this thing."

She revs the engine and eases the bike backward with both feet. "You'd better just hold on, blondie."

"To what?!"

She angles back to face me and smiles. "Me. Unless of course that makes you uncomfortable. If that's the case, though, you'd be safer walking home."

My fingers nearly pulse with the need to push back a stray hair that's fallen into her eyes, but I refrain. "Fine. I'll hang on." If she thinks I'll be unsettled by our proximity, she's got another thing coming.

Two can play at this game.

I wrap an arm around her midsection and settle her back against me in one smooth motion. The way she melts into me prompts me to lean in close. Her body shivers as my breath fans down her neck, and it's impossible not to smile. "Just don't read into this, peanut. Wouldn't want you to think I'm making a move when really, I'm just trying not to die."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she quips, then pulls away from the curb so fast I have no choice but to latch on to her.

The ride back to Joel's house on Chantelle's bike is the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of my life. It was infinitely harder than I thought it would be to hang on to her while emotionally keeping my distance. After what happened on Archer's porch, the only thing I could think about is how I don't ever want to let go of this woman.

The way she reacted to my touch tonight, the way she dared me to shut her up and I did…it has me feeling a myriad of emotions I haven't ever felt before. Possessive. Happy. Frustrated. Excited. I don't even know how it's possible to feel all those things at once, but my chest wants to explode from the overwhelm of it all.

Chantelle slows to a crawl as she turns into Joel's driveway and stops, planting both feet on the ground. I immediately remove my hands from around her waist and sit back.

"You get off first," she instructs. I obey, then remove the helmet and hand it back to her. The way she barely meets my eyes sets alarm bells off in my head, and my mouth reacts before I have time to stop it.

"What? You're not going to walk me to the door?"

Peeking up at me from under her thick, dark lashes, she purses her lips against a smile.

"Wow," I say, pressing a hand to my chest. "I suddenly feel so…used. Am I just some blond hunk you think you can make out with and then dump?" My mock offense gets her giggling, and I soak up the sound like a dry sponge.

"Fine," she huffs with an exaggerated eye roll. She hangs the helmet on the handlebar, puts the kickstand down, and slides off the bike with the kind of fluid movement a skater like me can appreciate. Once at my side, she says, "I just wasn't sure if I should since…you know."

"Joel and Gwen know that you know."

Her hazel eyes widen. "They do?"

I shrug. "Guess I felt obligated to tell them after our little bookstore meet and greet."

Her expression hardens and she crosses her arms. "We're not talking about that."

Raising an eyebrow, I smirk. "That's a shame. I like to think that's where you first fell in love with me. Between the VHS tapes and stacks of books. You have to admit, it makes the perfect setting for a romcom meet cute."

"How would you know anything about romcoms or meet cutes?"

A pretend weary sigh leaks from me, and I give in to the urge to play with a tendril of her dark-as-night hair. Lifting it and twining it in between my fingers, I whisper, "I've got plenty of secrets you have yet to discover, peanut. If you're willing to take the risk." It's a dare, and she knows it. But since she's so fond of doling them out herself, I'm hoping she'll bite.

"Just because we kissed doesn't mean I like you."

I laugh at that. "No? Well. In that case, you have my permission to go back to hating my guts." I start toward the house, but she catches up to me in two seconds.

"I don't hate your guts," she admits with a sigh. "I just think you're haughty and annoying. And abrasive. You act like some know-it-all —"

I abruptly stop and face her. "I never said I knew it all. For instance, there's plenty I don't know about you. But I'm willing to take the time to learn if you can get over your aversion to me." Her breath catches as I run my finger down the side of her cheek. I grin. "Or maybe you already have."

Stepping back abruptly, she scoffs. "Please. Don't flatter yourself."

My smile widens. We both know she likes me. And my touch. And the way I kiss.

"All right, fine. If that's how you want to play this." I turn away and call over my shoulder, "Ready to face my brother?"