I roll my eyes and dramatically let my head bobble back. “That is so not true. You’ve won plenty of times without me.”
He melodramatically presses his hand to his heart while still holding onto one of my wrists. “It’s completely true. I’d lose without you, baby.”
I give an over-exaggerated gag, wiggling my arm away from his grasp to place my fingers at the base of my neck. “Have you been reading the Cheesy Pickup Lines Handbook again? Because I thought I forbid you to do that anymore.” It’s amazing, but the pressure in my chest is lighter. Even when I was younger, I felt like a completely different person when I was around Micha: stronger, happier, weightless, like anything was possible. Which makes leaving to Vegas without him terrifying.
“Yeah, but I already got it memorized.” He backs off the bed and stands up. Then he winks at me. “Come on, pretty girl, go with me.”
I point a finger at him. “Watch the nickname, mister. You know I don’t like being called that.”
His lips quirk as he restrains a smile. “I’ll stop calling you that for tonight if you promise to go with me.”
There’s no use arguing with him. He pretty much won the argument the moment he started it. I always give in and go with him because he’ll make me feel fifty times better, even with the crowd of people around us. Besides, I’m craving the freedom from my house, and I need to take what I can get.
“Is ditzy going to be there tonight?” I ask, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and lowering my feet to the floor.
“You mean Trixie?” he corrects me, amused. “Why? Will you be jealous if she is?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Trixie was Micha’s weekend hook up last Saturday. While I’m used to his random flings since he’s been doing them for a couple of years now, it still irritates me. Even though I will never admit it aloud, I want Micha all to myself, as selfish as it seems. He’s all I have, and … Well, I feel lost without him.
“You sure about that? Because you seemed pretty bitchy toward Trixie the other day.” He arches his eyebrow, which pisses me off. It seems like he’s insinuating something that I don’t like. And that isn’t true at all.
Well, maybe …
I’m not sure.
God, I’m not sure about anything anymore when it comes to him.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I extend my hand forward and pinch his nipple through his shirt. “One of these days, that head of yours is going to get so big you aren’t going to be able to fit it through my window anymore.”
He chuckles as he rubs his nipple. “You better watch it, or one of these days, I’m going to pinch you right back.”
I quickly cross my arms over my chest because I don’t doubt that he will. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll go with you, but only if you stop with the dirty jokes, calling me pretty girl, and come home with me. And we have to at least stop by the party on our way there.”
“I agree to the latter three, but the first one is completely out of my hands.” He grins as he points to his mouth. “This thing doesn’t have a filter.”
“Fine,” I surrender. “Just try to tone it down, if you can.”
Nodding, he leans forward to kiss my cheek. “Thank you for going with me, pretty … beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
Flutters. Flutters. Flutters.
I struggle back the urge to shiver as he stands up straight and backs toward the window. “Meet me downstairs after you change.”
My forehead creases. “Why would I change? What I’m wearing is perfectly fine.”
He bites on his bottom lip so hard the skin around his mouth turns white. Then his gaze flicks to my chest. “Well, you don’t have to change, but you might want to consider it.” He rubs his hand across his mouth, dragging his fingers roughly across his skin, as if he’s stressed out. “Or at least consider putting on … a bra before you come out.” He quickly turns his back to me and swings his leg out the window to climb out.
My gaze drifts to my chest and my eyes widen. I completely forgot that this morning, when my mom woke me up freaking out about the photo, I just tugged on the nearest thing and didn’t bother putting on a bra. Right now, with the lightest breeze in my room, my nipples are perky and can be seen through the fabric of my shirt. They’ve probably been that way the entire time Micha and I were talking.
I hear Micha bust up laughing the moment he escapes my room and makes it out onto the tree branch. With one arm crossed over my chest, I hop off the bed, pick up a pillow, and stride across the room toward the window. I chuck the pillow out at him, and it hits him square in the back then tumbles to the grass below. Micha laughs even harder as he turns around and places his hands on the windowsill, ducking his head in to look at me.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he says with a grin.
Keeping my arm over my chest, I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“Your pink cheeks suggest otherwise.” He sucks on his lip ring, and I prepare myself for the innuendo coming. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. What I saw was nice. Way better than any I’ve seen before.”
My lips part in shock.
“And I think that you secretly kind of like that I was looking,” he adds arrogantly. “Otherwise, you would have punched me in the face already, like you do to any other guy who comments on your tits.”
My jaw is practically hanging to my knees. Before I can offer a rebuttal, he winks at me then hurries away from the window, balancing on the tree branch with his arms out.
“You’re such an ass,” I call out after him. “I don’t like that you were looking. At all.” The butterflies in my stomach reveal differently, though.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to get you through the day.” He flashes me one final grin before he descends down the tree.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I return to my bed and flop down on the mattress, angry at myself because Micha’s right. If any other guy had said what he just did, I would have clocked him square in the jaw. But, with Micha … Part of me secretly enjoys our sexual banter, something we’ve done since we hit our early teens, and he started noticing I had breasts. Still, it’s just friendly, flirty fun that I know will never go anywhere. Nor do I want him to want me as more than friends. Crossing that line would mean losing our friendship, and I can’t lose Micha. Ever. Besides, I’m not emotionally ready to be committed to a guy, which is why I’ve never had a boyfriend. A few make out sessions, yeah. But nothing past second base. I just don’t get the whole touching thing. Hugs. Kisses. Fondling. Whatever. It freaks me out more than it turns me on. The only person I’ve ever felt comfortable touching me is Micha.