Manipulative Attraction

21. ⚛️ Wrong Pages

Jeannie chewed her food slowly, savoring the fluffiness of the homemade tortilla and the heat of the spices. She'd ordered her burrito with plenty of peppers. It was time to live it up.

After a few attempts to help Shon get over his embarrassment, Jeannie gave up. She'd been perfectly fine with Shon's revelation, but Shon ... not so much.

His face had turned a deathly pale, and after a garbled apology, he could no longer speak. He just sat there, practically immobile except for taking a sip of water now and then, staring at Jeannie forlornly like a kid whose dropped ice cream was slowly melting into a hot pavement.

Jeannie crunched down on a habanero pepper, smacking her lips in approval at the wallop of hotness which seared her throat.

Shon finally spoke, curiosity winning over chagrin. "How can you stand that? Doesn't it burn?"

Jeannie smiled, happy Shon was talking again. "No, not really. I like the heat."

Heat.

Jeannie would bet her IQ Thorne was all heat and passion, especially between the sheets.

Too bad, she noted with a sigh; her smile falling off her face from her weighted speculation, I'll never get the chance to find out.

Weeks had passed, and he hadn't bothered to knock on her door. How he'd treated her when she came on to him, and today, when he'd stared at that pretty co-ed, were the only signs Jeannie needed to let him go. It was now time focus on what she came to the Uni to do.

Shon mistakenly believed the dejected sigh from Jeannie was because of his actions with Bekka. He hastened to make amends.

"I'm sorry, Jeannie," Shon said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. "I really am. Bekka means nothing. She—"

Jeannie held up her hand, palm out, shaking her head. "Shon, I'm not bothered, really. We're just friends. You're free to see whoever you wish." Jeannie placed her hand over Shon's, patted it once, and then picked up her fork, cutting into her burrito. "I have no say in the matter."

Shon smiled. He reasoned Jeannie was just trying to cover up her pain at finding out he was seeing Bekka behind her back. In the future, he'd be more careful, and when Jeannie was ready to give in, he'd dump Bekka like a soiled mattress in the alley—quick and under the radar.

Thorne took care with his appearance, scrubbing his skin in the shower, clipping his nails, styling his hair. He planned to make a good impression on Jeannie. He wanted to please her.

Just as he spritzed himself with what he assumed was her favorite cologne, he heard Jeannie's voice in the hallway. "Shon, you don't have to go further. I can manage."

"Jeannie, I insist."

"That's fine, Shon. I'll call you in the morning, okay? Goodnight and thank you for dinner."

Thorne moved silently, looking through the peephole. When Jeannie placed her key in the knob, he opened his door.

Jeannie turned at the sound, and when their eyes locked, Thorne was speechless. Everything he'd rehearsed to get her into his apartment where he could work his magic, became muddled up in his brain.

His tongue, used to delivering silky smooth lines of what women wanted to hear, swelled in his mouth. His brain could no longer think a coherent thought, because until then, Thorne hadn't allowed himself to dwell on the magnitude of how much he'd missed her. It now overwhelmed him as her presence filled his senses.

"Je-Jeannie," Thorne stuttered. "I was just ... um ... going to ask to borrow a movie."

When Jeannie heard Thorne's door open, she steeled herself, schooling her face to an impassive expression so she wouldn't give anything away, but once she turned around ...

It was just she and Thorne. Alone. No outside influences to stop them this time.

Thorne looked so handsome in his turquoise cotton sweater that went well with his tanned skin and blond hair. Dark jeans molded to his strong thighs. Jeannie could see every muscle move as he shifted his stance to lean against the doorway.

Thorne had asked her something, but she hadn't heard him. The beat of her heart had drowned out his words.

"Jeannie?" Thorne said. "Can I borrow a movie?"

Sound came flooding in, and what Thorne asked, registered in her mind. Jeannie's heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

Thorne wants a movie for his date. The girl from his class.

Why else would he'd be so dressed up, smelling so nice with clean nails and glowing skin?

Jeannie grimaced. Why can't I give him up?

"So," he said, pushing from his doorway to gaze at her intensely, green eyes searing into her flesh. "Can I come in?"

"Um, sure, Hawthorne. Come in and pick out whichever movie you want."

When Jeannie stepped through the doorway, Thorne followed her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but at her expression—lips turned down and nose scrunched up—he thought the better of it.

Jeannie headed to her bedroom, closing the door to a crack. All Thorne could see was a brown eye staring at him tiredly and a half-pursed mouth.

"Just shut the door when you're done, okay? I've had a long day, and I'm going to bed."

Anguish welled inside him, and his heart faltered in his chest. It was now or never. He needed to speak, to say something, but the only thing he could come up with was ...

"Goodnight, Jeannie."