Page 50 of Beautiful Monster

He looks like he could shoot daggers out of his eyes with the way he has them targeted at the boys around Cadence. I can see his discomfort, that he’s worried about me, not getting bruised up by my mom’s drunken tirades but from getting into something with these guys that I might regret.

I want to tell him that I can hold my own with them. They don’t scare me, and I trust most of them to at least be cool enough not to force me into something I don’t want to do.

But the look on his face says he’s jealous.

And I like it. I want him to feel what I felt when the blonde woman was in his window. I want him to feel what I feel every time I scroll through his Instagram and see him with a model on his arm. I hope once he feels the true claws of jealousy, he’ll stop avoiding what we both know is happening between us.

“I’ll stay right here until these boys are gone,” he mutters, glancing at them.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t.”

Cadence overhears us because she makes a big show of slapping Fischer on the arm. “These boys are just leaving. The rest of the night is a girls’ night.”

Then she links her arm with mine, resting her wet hair against my shoulder. I glance at Alexander with a pleading expression. After a long, heavy sigh, he nods.

“Fine. I’m heading back to the house. The door will be unlocked.” His face is set in a cool, straight line, not giving away anything as he stands.

But I can’t let him leave, not yet.

“Let me walk you back,” I blurt out and stand up to follow him.

He gives me a curious expression as we walk toward the shrub line. I keep a hold of his arm as we make our way through the warm summer grass.

Once we reach the other side of the shrubs, he turns and grips my arms firmly. I nearly lose my breath as I stare up at him. “Please be careful, Sunny. I worry about you.”

“I know you do.” Maybe it’s from the buzz I had an hour ago, but I’m feeling bold, so I place my hands on his chest.

Neither of us says anything for a moment, and the only sound is our heavy breaths as we stare at each other. We’re hidden from the party, and my pulse is flying a million beats a minute. It’s like my body knows something is about to happen before my brain does.

“You didn’t give me my birthday present,” I say, stepping closer so that I have to crane my neck to see him.

“What do you want?” Each word comes out like a plume of smoke, light and delicate.

I gaze up at him and draw my hand up his chest to his neck and then his cheek.

“Sunny…” he says in warning. I expect him to stop me. Instead, he continues, “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me.”

He sucks in a breath. “That’s what you want for your birthday?”

My eyes blink slowly as I smile up at him. “That’s all I want for my birthday.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, giving in to my request a lot easier than I expected. I start to move toward his lips, but he stops me. “But I want you to do something for me first.”

My brow furrows. “What is it?”

Moving my hair out of my face, he leans down, his face a breath away from mine.

“Say my name.”

His lips brush the tip of my nose and then the cleft of my chin. I feel like I’m floating, lighter than air. To know all he wants from me is to hear his name on my lips is more than I can bear.

Closing my eyes, I let him softly graze my face with featherlight touches of his lips. Then, I whisper his name like a prayer. “Alexander.”

He lets a sound rumble in his chest as his hands slide down from my arms and settle on my back. Then, he nudges me forward and my head tips back, ready for his kiss.