Page 113 of Vicious Little Snakes

Kai tosses an empty beer can at him, and I scowl because they’re acting like Neanderthals, or more truthfully because I’m losing my mind with Liam staring at me. I know he is because he hasn’t stopped since I walked in—time for me to go.

I turn to leave, saying, “Clean up your mess, Grey,” but as I head toward the door, I’m halted by a set of broad shoulders filling out a wrinkled tuxedo shirt as Liam jumps off the pool table.

He stumbles toward me, rubbing his head and licking those fucking lips. I bite my bottom lip, letting go immediately and steeling my spine, remembering that everyone is watching. His arms stretch overhead as he yawns, and every muscle ripples under that damn shirt. Each step he takes toward me reels me in because Liam’s so flawlessly easy. He has all the charm in the world within just a goddamn yawn.

“How come you didn’t bringmea coffee?” he rasps, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

God, his voice is all husky and deep.

Say something. Shut him down.

“I’d assumed you’d choked on your own vomit.” I press a finger against his chest to move him, adding, “Byeee.”

He lets out an “oof” that only I can hear, encircling my wrist and bringing it to his hip, adding, “Are you my Grumpy Bear today?”

His Grumpy Bear?

“Come on, Carebear”—Liam’s fingers drag up my arm—“please.” His eyes meet mine, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth before adding, “Grab me some coffee.”

Oh, he is one hundred percent not talking about coffee, and I will kill him because I’m confident that I’m blushing, but I still don’t move. Because I am here, in this moment, not at all struggling against being held hostage by that innuendo.

“I told you not to call me that anymore.”

I say it with absolutely no strength behind it because I’m only playing along for the sake of staying in this bubble for as long as I can. Hopefully, this hit will last longer than the others have in the past.

“You told me a lot of things last night, Carebear.” He tilts his head, staring at my mouth, whispering for only me to hear, “But I’m not a particularly good listener.”

I swallow, feeling my chest rise and fall faster. Liam glances down at my chest and back to my face, giving me a wink. Oh my fuck.

“I didn’t see you at the party last night, Caroline,” Donovan butts in, ruining our moment with her voice. “When were the two of you hanging out?”

Oh, shut up. We were two feet away, almost fucking.

I only think it as I look at her, my face blank, trying to get my bearings. Liam weaves his hand through mine, but I pull it away quickly, swallowing and trying to stay calm.

“Have you hit your head?” I whisper so only he hears.

Liam’s brows draw together, eyes dropping from mine, down to my hand, and then back to me before he turns his attention to Donovan.

“Before you got here, Van. Caroline helped me with some of the decorations.” He looks at me. “Right, Carebear?”

I nod, crossing my arms and turning around, using the moment as an escape. Liam whispers something as I pass, but I don’t pay attention, trying to get out of the room as fast as fucking possible.

What the hell was that? Jesus.I exhale harshly, walking down the hallway and shaking my head.He tried to hold my hand—in front of everyone. Why would he do that?

I’m halfway down the hall, knee-deep in my thoughts as footsteps come bounding down, surprising me. I jerk my face over my shoulder to see Liam bounding down the space toward me.Absolutely not. I am not doing this right now.My feet begin moving faster, but he laughs.

“Carebear. Hold up. You can’t outrun me. Not in those fuck-me heels.”

I spin around, mad at him. I hate Liam for making me like him, only to remember I shouldn’t do that anymore.

“First off”—I stab a finger at him—“we have to stop meeting in hallways. Second, what the fuck was that back there? It wasn’t funny, Liam. I am not a game, and we aren’t some kind of joke. Last night hurt. But then today, you’re trying to hold my hand?”

“I know we aren’t a joke. But Carebear, I always hold your hand. It’s only different because you’ve felt my hands in other places.”

I blink back at him, letting those words sink in. He’s right. He did used to always hold my hand, but now when he touches me, I don’t wonder what they would feel like on my body—I know. And I’m scared everyone else can see that too.

A pathetic girl that can’t close the deal with the boy she loves.