Page 34
Story: Give You Up
I lick my lips and am ready to tell him to take it all off, please. Thank goodness he gets back on the bed, taking the phone with him. His face fills the screen again, robbing me of a full view of his panty-melting body.
“If I tell, you leave it at my word and don’t ask questions, okay?” I haven’t shared this part of myself with Taron ever.
“I’m good with that.”
He’s not. I can see it on his face.
“B is for Beethoven.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
And just like that, we’re back to this weird calm, as though we didn’t just argue.
“Thanks for listening, Syn. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Taron.”
We end the chat. My phone pings. A text message.
Taron: U r the only girl for me, Pixie Dust. Always.
A fluttering starts in my chest. I clasp my cell phone to me and fall asleep with a smile on my face.
13
Taron
In class the next day, I make clear my intentions toward Syn. As soon as she takes her seat, I rise from mine, tell the douchebag next to her to scram, and sitting, I stretch my arm across her small shoulders.
“Get much sleep last night, Syn?” I ask in a loud voice.
“Not with Dare’s snoring shaking the walls.”
Damn, what a comeback. Smiling and with my arm still stretched across her shoulders, I reach inside my pocket and hand her the ring, my greedy eyes taking her in. She is smoking hot in this shirt that is white on the top half and pink on the bottom half, and a pair of tight blue jeans shredded at the knees. The hint of skin is mouthwatering.
“Remember, I will not give up the rings every time you lose your shit.” She slips on the braided gold band, then sips her coffee.
“Are you demanding I behave?”
“I’m asking.”
“Didn’t sound like it to me.”
“Taron, will you please keep your temper in check?”
“That’s better,” I say near her ear.
Not only does she look good, Syn smells good too, a boner-inducing mix of her body heat and the sweet scent of flowers. I rein in the urge to rub my nose in her hair and up against her skin and inhale until my behavior borders on insanely inappropriate, going beyond common decency. I lingered for far too long. She pokes her sharp elbow into my side. I grunt.
“What was that for?”
“You’re misbehaving.”
Damn right. Slouching in my seat, I chew on the tip of my pen and slide her a sideways checking out. She brings her coffee to her mouth and sips. I catch a whiff of caramel. Smiling, I shake my head. Syn and her love of everything caramel.
“Want some?”
Hell yeah. I nod. Straighten in my seat. She hands me the cup, and I press my mouth on the spot her mouth was on, not ashamed one bit if my lips are stained with her pink lipstick. I take a small swig and give her back her sweet treat and dose of caffeine. Syn gets cranky if she goes without her morning cup of Joe.
“If I tell, you leave it at my word and don’t ask questions, okay?” I haven’t shared this part of myself with Taron ever.
“I’m good with that.”
He’s not. I can see it on his face.
“B is for Beethoven.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
And just like that, we’re back to this weird calm, as though we didn’t just argue.
“Thanks for listening, Syn. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Taron.”
We end the chat. My phone pings. A text message.
Taron: U r the only girl for me, Pixie Dust. Always.
A fluttering starts in my chest. I clasp my cell phone to me and fall asleep with a smile on my face.
13
Taron
In class the next day, I make clear my intentions toward Syn. As soon as she takes her seat, I rise from mine, tell the douchebag next to her to scram, and sitting, I stretch my arm across her small shoulders.
“Get much sleep last night, Syn?” I ask in a loud voice.
“Not with Dare’s snoring shaking the walls.”
Damn, what a comeback. Smiling and with my arm still stretched across her shoulders, I reach inside my pocket and hand her the ring, my greedy eyes taking her in. She is smoking hot in this shirt that is white on the top half and pink on the bottom half, and a pair of tight blue jeans shredded at the knees. The hint of skin is mouthwatering.
“Remember, I will not give up the rings every time you lose your shit.” She slips on the braided gold band, then sips her coffee.
“Are you demanding I behave?”
“I’m asking.”
“Didn’t sound like it to me.”
“Taron, will you please keep your temper in check?”
“That’s better,” I say near her ear.
Not only does she look good, Syn smells good too, a boner-inducing mix of her body heat and the sweet scent of flowers. I rein in the urge to rub my nose in her hair and up against her skin and inhale until my behavior borders on insanely inappropriate, going beyond common decency. I lingered for far too long. She pokes her sharp elbow into my side. I grunt.
“What was that for?”
“You’re misbehaving.”
Damn right. Slouching in my seat, I chew on the tip of my pen and slide her a sideways checking out. She brings her coffee to her mouth and sips. I catch a whiff of caramel. Smiling, I shake my head. Syn and her love of everything caramel.
“Want some?”
Hell yeah. I nod. Straighten in my seat. She hands me the cup, and I press my mouth on the spot her mouth was on, not ashamed one bit if my lips are stained with her pink lipstick. I take a small swig and give her back her sweet treat and dose of caffeine. Syn gets cranky if she goes without her morning cup of Joe.
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