“Let me go,” I damn near beg.
“Why, so you can go and pretend to be happy? Tell me how to make it better, Poppy. Tell me how to put a genuine smile on your face.”
“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on his sparkling ones.
“I’ve always cared. I watch you, you know, when you’re not looking.”
“No,” I argue, knowing that it can’t be true. The thought of it being true and him discovering what I keep hidden is scarier than him admitting that he might actually care.
“These frown lines,” he says, his finger gently running between my brows, smoothing them out. “I want to know what puts them there.” His finger continues down over my nose until it connects with my lips.
I suck in a ragged breath as I watch his eyes follow its journey. It lingers on my bottom lip for a beat before pulling it out. His eyes darken as he sucks on his own bottom lip like he’s imagining all kinds of dirty things.
I’ve seen the look on him before. Usually right before he makes a play for a cheer slut. But despite the fact I know that, it doesn’t make me move. In fact, right now, with his scent filling my nose and the heat of his body seeping into mine, all it does is make me want to find out where he’s going with this.
I don’t need to look up to know we’re alone right now, someone has turned the music down and all the voices that can be heard are coming from the garden.
I should push him away. Harley, or worse, Jake could see us and jump to conclusions. What I really don’t need in my life right now is more drama. But as I remain locked in his stare, I’m powerless to move.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, his fingers squeezing in the most incredible way.
“What keeps these muscles so tense, Pops? What are you hiding?”
My lips part to respond as he rests his forearm against the wall beside my head. He steps closer, completely surrounds me with his size and I feel like a little girl once again. I feel like I’m fourteen once more and about to experience everything I’d been dreaming about.
“Zayn,” I warn as he slowly closes the space between us, the crowd from outside beginning their countdown to the New Year.
“Celebrate the New Year with me, Pops. Let’s bring it in style.”
He steps closer still. His hard, powerful body pressing mine back into the wall. His muscles meld with my softness and my knees threaten to give out.
Right as the first firework explodes, his lips connect with mine. His grip on my neck gets tighter and my lips part without any instruction from my brain.
You shouldn’t be doing this, the little voice in my head screams. But I already know I don’t have the strength in me to stop it. Not now that I can taste him, feel his tongue dancing with mine, feel his hardness pressing against my stomach.
Fuck, he actually wants me.
His tongue delves past my lips once more, searching mine out. This kiss is different to the previous one we shared. There’s no hesitation whatsoever. He knows what he’s doing this time.
As he should, he’s been with half of the senior girls according to the gossip.
“Oh God,” I mumble against his lips, the realization of what I’m doing slamming into me full force.
Pressing my palms against his solid chest, I push in the hope of making him back up.
“Zayn, stop,” I beg the second his lips part from mine.
Keeping my eyes on the fabric of my shirt, I fight down my need to pull him straight back to me.
I miss him already. It’s crazy.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper, needing to at least attempt to tell him how wrong it was.
“Why?” His voice hits me exactly where I don’t need it to. That combined with how ferociously his chest is heaving doesn’t help my resolve at all.
“Because nothing good happens when we…”
“When we?”
I roll my eyes at myself, at the fact he needs me to say the words out loud. “When we kiss.” I lift my eyes to him, needing him to know how serious I am.
“I don’t have a black eye yet, do I?” he says, referring to what happened after that horrendous experience of our last kiss.
I might have wanted to hide in that closet for the rest of eternity but the second I heard Jake’s angry growl and the girls start screaming, I didn’t have a choice but to step into the light and watch as Jake rained hell down on Zayn’s face for what he said about me.
“Give it time.”
Our eyes hold, mine hold a warning whereas I swear his hold a promise, although I’m not entirely sure what he’s trying to promise me. All I do know is that the tingles continue to race through me and my temperature doesn’t decrease at all with his stare burning into me.
When the fireworks are over, the crowd starts to disperse and their chatter and laughter filter down to me. I know I need to move. I can’t be standing here in this stare-off with Zayn when Jake or Harley emerges.
Thankfully, loud footsteps approaching us sound as I drag my eyes away from his dark and hungry stare.
I look up in time to see Justin clap his hand down on Zayn’s shoulder. His eyes are wild and he sways a little on his feet. The guy’s wasted.
I’m about to roll my eyes at the state of him when he says the words that rips the rug from beneath me once again.
“Sweet, man. I didn’t think you were going to pull off your tag tonight. Right at the stroke of midnight, too.”
My eyes widen as understanding washes through me. The team’s little games aren’t a secret around the girls of Rosewood High.
“What?” I ask, forcing the word out through the lump in my throat.
“Pop, it’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Zayn,” I hiss back. “Tell me I wasn’t a dare,” I demand.
He swallows nervously but his lips remain sealed.
“Tell me,” I damn near plead, not knowing how I’m going to deal with this again. The first rejection hurt like hell. But this time, it’s so different.
That kiss, those few seconds of escape from reality, there’s no way he can have any idea how much it meant to me, how much I needed it.
He gave me something that took me away, even if for a few seconds and now it’s all crumbling around my feet once again.
“Pops, I—”
“No,” I bark, shoving at his chest. “Don’t Pops me. You’re a fucking joke. You know that, right? The group of you are a fucking joke,” I scream, briefly meeting Justin’s eyes who doesn’t so much as flinch at my volume.
Assholes.
Zayn takes a step back, his eyes still trained on me. Something akin to regret filling them but I refuse to acknowledge it.
Stepping past him, my arm collides with his, sending a pain right down to my fingers but despite my gasp, he doesn’t react.
“I told you, nothing good comes from us kissing. It’s time you realized that,” I hiss at him before I storm past.
“And what if I don’t?”
Shaking my head, I march from the kitchen and head toward the stairs.
What I really want to do is walk straight out of the Hunter’s front door and leave this party and his games behind me. But where would I go?
Home?
I almost laugh to myself at the thought. I think I’d rather be Zayn’s plaything, the pawn in his games, than being at home tonight.