Page 13 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Since the start of college, anyway.
“Am I being hustled?”
“Byme? I’m too skittish and inept to hustle you.”
His eyes flashed, his tongue rolling inside his mouth—an adorable tic of his. I’d alwayslovedthe way his jaw worked when he did it. Made me wonder how he kissed.
“I guess I misjudged you yet again.” I held my breath when his hand touched mine. “You’re not the clumsy girl I thought you were. You’re actually very graceful. And pretty damn cute.”
A heat wave surged through my face. “I think you’re the only one to ever call me cute.”
“Well, you are.” Briar squeezed my knee. I fought the urge to squeal when his free arm snaked my shoulders, pressing me close. “More than that. Don’t you look at yourself in the mirror every morning?”
“Nah, I keep that sucker covered up. It’s not good to be startled first thing in the morning.”
Briar licked his lips, smooth as hell. “I think I’d like to see you first thing in the morning.”
I practically squawked, making Briar flinch, though he laughed. Upon calming, we just smiled at each other.
I fisted my hands in my lap, my heart thundering.Kiss me, I wanted to say.Rock my fucking world!
Mournfully unable to read my mind, Briar watched me like an abstract painting he could contemplate for hours. I craved action, however, wanting to grab his arched ears and smash my mouth into his. I couldn’t, though. I just couldn’t.
Right as Briar’s eyelids lowered, and I thought he was about to make his move—
“What are you doing here, Hawthorne?” a jocular voice whooped.
Damnit!
Briar and I broke apart.
Three lanes to our right, four guys were prepping for a game. I recognized two from UPJ, though I didn’t know their names. They were all well-toned, probably jocks like Briar, and wore similar outfits—jeans and graphic tee shirts.
“Hey, Carson,” Briar greeted the one who strode toward us, his hand outstretched. Briar caught it in a clasping dap. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” Carson answered. “Not much going on today. Thought we’d knock some shit around.”
“Same.” Briar’s hand regained my knee.
Carson’s gaze passed over me. Judging me.
“This is my date, Amy,” Briar introduced me. “Amy, this is my frat brother, Carson.”
Carson extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I grimaced politely, shook his hand. “You too.”
Carson kept our handshake going for much longer than necessary, his amiable smile hardly masking his scrutiny. I withdrew, trying not to care what he thought of me.
Seeming to come back to himself, Carson expelled a breath. “Enjoy your date. I can’t promise we won’t heckle you, though.” He gestured toward our scoreboard. “Looks like you’re coming from behind, dude.”
Briar chuckled. “That’s how I like it.”
Carson having returned to his lane, I faced Briar. “I didn’t know you were in a fraternity.”
“I pledged last spring. I don’t live in the house, but I go to the parties.”
“Are you one of those rowdy drunks I pass when I’m walking home from the library on Saturday night?” I was semi-teasing. Truthfully, wading through drunkards at the party zone harrowed me. At least sober people attempted to mask their morbid fascination at my strangeness. Drunks lacked the same manners.
