Page 29 of The Temptation of Truth

I drop my eyes and try to suppress the goofy grin that wants to take over my face. Movement draws my attention back to her, though, and I catch her popping a berry in her mouth. I laugh.

“Are you eating my breakfast?”

Mabel smirks. “Want some?”

“Do I want some of the breakfast that I ordered for myself?”

“Do you?” She scoops a spoonful of yogurt from a glass parfait cup and holds it out to me. “It’s pretty good.”

I don’t move right away, but I let my gaze stay locked with hers. The smirk on her pink lips grows slightly, and then I catcha flash of challenge in her amber eyes. The challenge is what sets my feet in motion. I close the distance between us slowly, until I’m standing over her, but when I reach for the spoon, she moves it away. I huff a laugh, and she arches a brow.

I know what she wants me to do, and the way my heart races makes me dizzy. I tell myself it’s a little, harmless thing, but I have to remind myself to take slow, controlled breaths. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, hesitating for a few seconds before finally sitting beside her on the loveseat.

I watch her attention drop to my mouth as I open for her, and I swear I see heat flash in her amber irises as I close my lips around the spoon. The cold yogurt hits my tongue, but I can barely taste the sweetness. I’m too busy staring at Mabel’s expression as she slowly pulls the spoon back through my lips and watches as I swallow the yogurt. She looks from my mouth to my eyes and darts her own tongue out to swipe over her plump lower lip.

“Well?”

I nod and swallow twice more before I can respond. “Yum.”

“You’ve got just a little...”

She brings her hand up slowly between us. When I don’t flinch away, she rubs her thumb at the corner of my mouth, and my skin erupts in goosebumps from her touch. Then my stomach flips over on itself when she sucks her thumb between her lips and hums.

“Yum.”

My inhale and exhale are shaky, and when I feel my face and neck heating, I break our stare and force out an awkward laugh. I can still feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine fixed firmly on the ground until she finally, abruptly, stands from the couch.

“C’mon,Roar. Let’s go before Savvy sends out a search party. She’s very impatient.”

The rapid change of mood leaves me scrambling for a complete thought, and I’m slow to follow as she starts to leave. We’re silent as we step into the hall. Thankfully, too, because I doubt I could carry on even the lightest of conversations.

What just happened? Was she testing me, pushing to see how I’d react? Or is that normal behavior between friends?

The way she fed me the yogurt. The way she smirked at me. The way she touched me. Her thumb on my lips. In her mouth. The tone of her voice when she saidyum.

I replay the whole thing, then run through my memories, sifting for some comparable experience, but I come up short. Ireallyneed to find some friends. I’ve had no friendships, or even friendly interactions, with any other girls since high school, and nothing comes anywhere close to my interactions with Mabel.

It could be normal, I suppose. I’m probably over thinking it. I’m just being ridiculous and out of place, which is further proof that I don’t belong here. Or...

Or...maybe...

I flatten my palm over my stomach and note the strange, tickling flutter of nerves.

Or was sheflirtingwith me?

No. I almost laugh out loud. Definitely not. Mabel Rossi wouldn’t flirt with me. She’s a gorgeous, talented, famous rock star, and I’m, well,me.

I try to squash the thought, but it gets louder, demanding to be considered.

Maybe...

Everyone knows the drummer for The Hometown Heartless is queer. Mabel Rossi is attracted to women. I’ve seen pictures of her with girlfriends in the past, and even the big drum of her drum set is emblazoned with a glittery rainbow flag. I don’t think she’s dating anyone right now. Or, at least, I can’t rememberany recent pictures with a current girlfriend. If she’s single, then maybe...

No.No. No.

That’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t flirt with me. She was just messing with me. Testing me, and I probably failed whatever it was. That’s the only possible explanation, and I walked right into it.

I frown at the hotel carpet and keep my strides in time with Mabel’s, trying and failing to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe Iamjust the butt of the joke. Maybe Brady was right. I don’t belong. I don’t?—