Tristan and I reach for the same book and our hands bump together, heat searing up my fingers and into my arm. My pulse races, and I have to swallow back a small sound of surprise. Do all the girls feel this way when they touch him? Is that why he’s always sleeping with a new one?
“I’ve got a list of titles on my phone that I looked up that might be helpful,” I say, reaching into my bookbag and pulling it out. Tristan just stands there in his perfectly polished uniform, not a button out of place, not a single crease or stain. The way he holds his head tells me he knows he’s the king, even if the other guys don’t want to believe it. My eyes scan the list and then I hand it over to him, and we start pulling out books and laying them on the table.
When none of those gives us the information we’re looking for, we head back into the shelves, our bodies pressed close in the tight space. I can smell him, too, this fresh, sharp peppermint and cinnamon mix that makes my nostrils tingle. He reaches around me a few times, effectively pinning me against the bookcase with his warm, hard body pressed up against my back.
Holy crap.
As he pulls away, there’s this rush of cool air, like I’m free-falling when all I want is to be held close.
My eyes close and I exhale.
“Something the matter?” Tristan asks, still standing far too close to me. His lips touch the side of my head as he talks and his left hand finds my shoulder, kneading my knotted flesh with an expert’s touch. A groan escapes me and I lean back into him without even meaning to.
Marnye, what are you doing?! I snap at myself, opening my eyes and pulling away. There’s a book we missed before that I recognize from the list of titles I made, and I reach up to get it as Tristan steps back. Of course … I tried so hard not to freak out over my lack of panties that I completely forgot to be cautious about not wearing any. My skirt lifts up and I swear, I can feel a cool breeze on my bare ass.
Tristan’s hands fall on my hips, and I hear him exhale sharply.
“Can I ask for that favor now?” he whispers, his voice seduction incarnate, winding around me and working its way inside my chest.
“What’s the favor?” I choke out, feeling the warmth of his hands through my skirt. He leans in close and puts his mouth next to my ear again.
“Let me touch you.”
My heart explodes in my chest, and I find myself nodding before I even realize what I’m doing.
Tristan moves his hands over my hips and under my skirt, cupping my bare ass in his palms. I’ve literally never done anything like this before, so I find myself holding my breath until I’ve gone dizzy, leaning in against the bookshelf with my arms still over my head, fingers clutching the edge of the shelf.
He cups my bottom in a tight grip, his breath ragged and warm against my ear. I can barely hear him though, or anything else for that matter because my heart is beating so fast that it drowns out the world. A hot, warm throbbing takes place in my core, and I suddenly want his hands lower, searching for something else.
It feels fated, this meeting of ours, in the dark, quiet shadows of the library.
If Harper and Becky hadn’t stolen my panties, if I hadn’t stood on my tiptoes to grab the book, if Tristan hadn’t been standing so close behind me …
My breath rushes out in a gasp as his palms travel over the curve of my ass, sliding up and underneath the pleats of my skirt before trailing down the outsides of my thighs. With a sudden curse, Tristan steps back and I turn to face him, our bodies just inches apart. His slacks can’t hide the bulge underneath, and his eyes are far too dark and dripping with lust to be fake.
This wasn’t planned. I can feel it.
“Your debt to me is paid,” he says, turning and heading for the table. He scoops up a box of slides and storms off toward the microfilm reader. I’m not sure whether to go or stay, but I feel hot and achy and confused, so I just grab my bookbag and bail.
The next time I see Tristan, he has the project finished, and we don’t talk about what happened in the library.While the Idol boys are being, for the most part, pleasant, the girls are at their worst. And the Inner Circle isn’t much better. On the last Friday of the month, just after grades are posted and I take second place behind Tristan (damn it!), I get a call that Vice Principal Castor wants to see me.
