"My intentions would be simple," he says with a deep, heated gaze, his warm breath fanning across my face.
He slowly moves himself even closer to me so that our bodies are mere millimeters away from touching, causing breathing to become a chore. "M...
For perhaps the first time in my life, I have dressed myself for a fancy event with absolutely zero help from Presley.
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And I think I've done a pretty decent job, all things considered. When I asked Jayce what I should wear, he tried to get me to agree to let him buy something for me, but I had vehemently declined. I'd already let him in too much, trusted him too much, bore too much of my heart to him. And given what he confessed to me poolside Sunday night, I wasn't exactly keen to let him in any more.
I know, I know. He's just being sweet and what-fucking-ever else. He "cares" about me. Blah, blah, blah. He can spin whatever words together he wants. The bottom line is, guys like Jayce are all the same. They're all literally wired for one thing, and one thing only. And yet, to him, I wasn't even good enough for that. It doesn't matter what he says or how he justifies it, his actions communicated pure rejection.
All I know is, after we figure out this bullshit with our parents, Jayce Solis can fuck the hell off.
I found several "you-don't-need-a-man" mantras that I've been repeating to myself since Sunday. After all, this year was supposed to be about focusing on what's really important. My sexual needs and Jayce's curls were not on that list, as I had told Presley at lunch today.
She insisted that one of the "really important" things was having a full high school experience, and that included homecoming, which was this Saturday. She had refused to go with a date, citing that she had more fun dancing with lots of people once she got there, instead of feeling like she had to dance with one dude all night.
I told her I wasn't going because I didn't want to spend the money on a dress, but she didn't seem to accept that answer.
I glance at the clock on the barely-functioning dash of my car. It reads 6:32pm. Jayce is two minutes late, which normally wouldn't bother me, but right now waiting for him at all has got me feeling lame and pitiful. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do but keep waiting since I literally can't go in without him, seeing as I'm not invited unless I'm on his arm.
Celia and Haven (one of whom had been a mess of blushing and fidgeting all evening) had gone inside as soon as we got here, claiming it would look less weird if we went in separately.
I was parked outside of a ritzy restaurant called 1213 Steakhouse, well-known as being the best restaurant in town. Also known for serving only Duende Vineyards wine, of course. I hadn't been inside since dad died.
After what feels like an eternity, I spot Jayce's navy Mustang pull into the parking lot and watch as he screeches into the space next to mine. Killing the engine, he pops open the door and steps out, looking at me over the top of his car and doing that damned head nod that makes my stomach turn inside out.
