I’ll be—I would bet my life that this boy is flirting with me—and, with that, all thoughts of a proper introduction vacate the premises.
“I’m sure you’re not as bad as you make yourself sound. And don’t you worry, that self-abasing humor will get you everywhere.” My tongue does a swift revolution over my lips, and my head cocks to the left as I try my darndest to flirt right back.
“Here’s to hoping.” He offers up a quick toast as he takes the beer from Baya, and she sets my ruby red daiquiri in front of me before disappearing in another perfumed whisper.
“And as much as I do love the self-abasing humor, I find an equal distaste in the expletive-riddled, self-abasing tirade. I prefer all my expletive-riddled tirades stay locked behind closed doors—the bedroom door to be exact in the event you’re wondering.” I bite over my thumbnail and offer a little wink. For a brief second, I imagine a mini version of my sister sitting on my shoulder, fully equipped with horns and a tail—just cheering on the proposed bedroom expletive-riddled tirades.
“Maybe I’m not that bad.” That lopsided grin of his, that heavy lust-filled look in his eyes begs to differ. It’s as if I’ve upped the ante, and the air between us charges electric.
“Yes, you are,” I counter, lifting my drink to him in a mock toast right back. “You are just that bad and worse, I’d venture to guess.”
Cade leans in hard, the heady scent of his musky cologne, expensive and thick as a wool coat, warms the space between us. “That I am.” His gaze lays heavy over mine, drugged and smugly secure in where this happy trail of seduction just might be leading. “I’m a very dirty, dirty boy when I’m locked behind bedroom doors.” His features smooth out with serious intent, but that current traveling from his gorgeous night sky eyes to mine demands my pretty pink bits and pieces quiver to attention. “Expletive-riddled tirades in the bedroom are my specialty.”
I lean in. My finger swirls a clean circle over the rim of his beer. “And what exactly do you think I would do if I were to witness one of these tirades of yours?”
“Shout with pleasure.” He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t miss a beat.
The air stills around us, the music fades, and the voices in the room all warble into a ball of white noise. It’s just Cade and I locked in this strange place, where his determination to find someone to sit on his very enthusiastic lap, and my inadvertent need to keep vital information away from him regarding my all too close connection to his sister takes over. I’m not sure what difference it would make if I spilled the dormitory beans, but I like the idea of keeping Piper off the table for now. For some strange reason, I want Cade all for myself a moment. Once he finds out I’m his little sister’s bestie, that might relegate me right back to the friend zone and cancel out any future lane changes that might inadvertently lead to his expletive-riddled bedroom.
A group of girls knock against our table before scuttling off drunk, and we both catch our drinks before they offer up a spontaneous baptism.
We share a warm laugh.
“You’ve got quick reflexes, I’ll give you that.” He touches his glass to mine before sucking the foam off the top of his beer. “So, what’s your story?” He glances back at the dance floor where his sister fist pumps with the best of them. “You go to Briggs?”
“Freshman.” Like your sister, I want to say but don’t. This isn’t some midnight confessional. He wasn’t Father Cade James last time I checked. As far as I’m concerned, Piper is persona non grata tonight. My gaze rides over the periphery of our tiny little table, only to affirm a number of short-skirted coeds still ready and willing to strip Cade bare with their teeth once the moment allows. Sorry, skanks. This one is with me.