Page 46 of Beg for You

“You gonna tell me why you went out drinking tonight?” he said.

“I owed Ted for dragging him to this gala thing I had to go to the other night. I didn’t want to talk to my dad or Spencer, so I made him come as a buffer—”

“You didn’t want to talk to your dad?”

I screwed my face up. “We don’t really…I’m a big disappointment. I messed everything up and now he hates me…” I shook my head when I realized what I was talking about. I wasn’t thinking about him or the awful thing he wanted me to do, not tonight. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Cal’s brows were lowered. I pressed my hands to his forehead and tried to lift them back up.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“You’re frowning.”

His lips twitched again.

“What were we talking about again?”

His eyes got warmer. “You were telling me why you were out tonight.”

Such nice eyes. “Um…well, I left the gala early because of those who must not be named.”

He frowned again. “Voldemort?”

I laughed. I’d never heard him make a joke before. I liked it. “My dad and Spencer,” I said, still chuckling.

His frown got even deeper. “Who’s Spencer?”

“I’m not talking about him tonight either.”

“Why aren’t you talking about them?” he asked.

“Because if I thought about them and their messed-up plan, I’ll start to—” I stopped myself and shook my head. I was doing it again. “I’m not talking about them, remember?”

“Right,” he said, but his frown hadn’t gone away. I didn’t want him to frown. “So carry on with your story.”

“That’s right…Ted!” I shouted when I remembered on my own what I was saying. Cal’s lips twitched again, and I almost leaned in and kissed him. But I didn’t…just. “I left him at the gala, and he ended up going home with Becky the bartender.”

His eyes were now not only warm but kind of glinting, like he was amused. Amused Cal might even be sexier than serious Cal.

“And that’s a problem because?” he said.

“Becky has a foot fetish and she stole all of Ted’s socks.”

Cal muttered something under his breath, the lip twitch turning into more of a grin.

“I think I’m going to swoon.”

“What?”

Had I said that out loud?

“You grinned,” I said because apparently, I couldn’t shut the hell up. “It’s swoon-worthy.”

“Thanks,” he said, fingers massaging my scalp in a way that made my head tingle and my limbs feel all warm and relaxed.

“Ted’s an artist, like you. Only he mainly paints nudes.”

“Yeah?” he said, still massaging.