“Who said anything about dating?” I give a rueful laugh, fingers working the pink metal teeth on her jacket. “No girls want to date me.”
I give the zipper another gentle tug as she laughs, warm breath tickling my ear as she leans to watch my progress.
I lift my head to meet her eyes. They’re curious and close to my face, annoyingly…na?ve.
“There’s a big difference between a groupie wanting to fuck because I’m an athlete and someone who’s seriously interested in dating, Violet. Only one of them ever happens to me.”
I am right up in her face, still down on my knees, so damn close I can feel and smell her minty breath; my nostrils flare, involuntarily inhaling more of her.
I notice the distinctive colors in her eyes as she gazes down at me quizzically. Black mascara sets off soft hues of brown, gold, and blue. A stark onyx circle surrounds her vibrant irises. Her eyes are fucking magnificent.
There isn’t a single freckle or blemish on her skin, and I curse myself for never noticing.
I’m definitely noticing now.
Dropping my hands from her coat, I rise to my full height, shoving them into the pockets of my jeans. “It’s not coming open. Sorry.”
“W-What do I do?”
“Clearly you have two options: jump with your jacket on, or pull the damn thing off over your head.”
“I’m not jumping in my jacket; I’ll die of heat stroke.”
I smugly grin. “So you are going to jump with us.”
Violet’s wide eyes are directed at my grinning lips.
“Why are you staring at my mouth like that?”
Her teeth drag across her lower lip. “You just smiled.”
“So? I smile.”
Occasionally.
Fine. Rarely.
“It’s…” She gives her head a shake. “Never mind.”
“Tell me what you were going to say.”
Her unblemished skin reddens. “It was nice. You should do it more.”
“I’m not an asshole all the time you know; I do know how to smile.” To prove it, I clamp down on my teeth and give her a toothy grin.
“You look like a hyena about to pounce on a gazelle.”
“Uh, what the hell kind of metaphor is that?”
“Cheshire Cat?”
“Ha ha.” Not funny.
“Crocodile?”
I snap my teeth together a few times, chomping down and advancing on her. She shoves at me with the palm of her hand, reaching for the hem of her jacket and pulling upward.
“It’s just…you smile so rarely, it’s like a Bigfoot sighting,” she teases, yanking her coat. Lifts it up higher. “And you should—smile more, I mean.”
Her hands grapple with the bottom of her jacket and she gives another tug—tug—inadvertently tugging her shirt along with it, baring her abs. The smooth pale expanse of her stomach and perky little bellybutton become exposed; my eyes are fastened to that indentation on her stomach and the cherry-colored birthmark slashing across her flesh.
Her jeans ride low in front, that tender skin dipping down into her waistline…into places I’m assuming no one but a doctor has ever been.
As she struggles, I catch a glimpse of Kyle’s horrified expression at the sight of her bare stomach.
I react. “Stop! Jesus Violet, are you trying to give everyone a free show?”
“Why! W-What’s happening? I can’t see!” Her panicked voice is muffled, trapped in the prison of her jacket, unable to see.
“Your shirt is about to come off.” I reach for the hem of her shirt, ignoring the spark from her skin when my fingers hastily pull the fabric over her flat stomach. “Let’s try this again, shall we? I’ll pull down while you pull up.”
My knuckles graze the skin above her hips, tugging. Hurriedly, Violet yanks and pulls at the stubborn pink jacket, wiggling her way out until it’s clear above her head.
Obviously, since she’s wearing a V-neck shirt, I check out her rack.
Or lack thereof.
Beneath that tee are two discernable bumps, smooth but small, and why the fuck am I all of a sudden staring at her tits?
I rush through peeling off her jacket, and when she’s free, the pale blonde hair surrounding her head sticks up in several directions. Adorable. Violet pats at it, smoothing away the flyaway strands, but even with her hair sticking out every which way, she looks flushed and happy and cute as all hell.
“I don’t even want to know what I look like right now,” she grumbles, stuffing her coat into Summer’s cubby.
“Your hair is a rat’s nest,” I put in helpfully.
Summer, who appears at our side, rolls her eyes and shoots me a hostile glare. “You’re not supposed to tell girls they look like rats.”
“First of all, I said her hair is a rat’s nest. I didn’t say she looked like one—there’s a big difference. Secondly, since when do five-year-old kids roll their eyes at grownups?”
“I’m seven.”
“Whatever kid. If you keep doing that, your eyeballs are going to get lodged inside your skull—permanently.”
Summer gasps. “No they won’t!”
“Try it and find out,” I intone cryptically.
The kid gives me another scowl so deep I have mad respect for her. “Nuh uh.”
“Yuh huh.” I raise my black brows. “It’s true.”
Violet clears her throat. “Okay you two, stop arguing.” She digs into the back pocket of her jeans and produces a twenty-dollar bill, tries handing it to me. “Zeke, do you want to get our tickets?”
I stare down at the money then up into her compassionate hazel eyes. “You are not paying for the tickets. Like I’d ever let you pay for our shit.” The idea is ludicrous.
I roll my eyes heavenward.
“You rolled your eyes!” Summer screeches, jumping up and down; she’s hyper—to say the least—and her long dark pigtails bounce as she hops around us.
“I did not,” I argue.
“Your eyes are going to be stuck up in your big, giant skull!”
Giant skull?
I glance at Violet. “Can you make her stop?”
Violet shrugs. “You started it.”
With a grumble, I jerk my head toward Kyle. “Come on kid. Let’s get the tickets and get bouncing so I can be done and get the hell out of here.”
Ten minutes later, we’re bouncing.
“I-I can’t believe I suggested this.” A pouting Violet boxes out in the corner of a red trampoline, legs spread and knees braced to steady herself. She’s determined not to fall flat on her ass. “You were right. This was a shitty idea.”
Nearby, Summer and Kyle are tiny jumping maniacs, hopping from trampoline to trampoline like frogs leaping on lily pads.
“Well,” I gladly remind her, giving her a few quick bounces with the heels of my feet, causing her to lose her balance. She lands on her back with a flop as I lightly spring onto the net beneath us. “You were getting desperate for ideas I’d be willing to try.”
She stares up at from the mesh, flat on her back. “You’re right. I brought this on myself.” Her arm goes out, palm extended. “Help me to my feet?”
I stare at her hand like it’s a foreign object I’ve never seen and have no idea what to do with.