Nothing We Could Do

Chapter 19

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If you'd told me a month prior that I'd be about to step into a party under the arms of Kioshi Harada as his fake girlfriend, I would have given you the dirtiest glare known to man and walked away thinking you were a mad person.

There had been a point in my life where the very thought of being in the proximity of brawny brain-dead athletes had repulsed me.

That time had long passed.

If you had told me I would feel my whole body coming alive under his gaze, electrifying desire from his casual touch... I would have ran away and never looked back.

Things had changed. But for better or for worse?

As we stepped through the door, his arms casually draped over my shoulders, I admired how calm he looked. Parties, loud music, drinks, drugs, sex; that was his scene.

I also failed to miss how fucking good he looked. A loose fitting top, Jeans that rode low on his hips, a print flannel and his thick dark hair spilling out from beneath his cap.

So effortlessly fucking beautiful. It pissed me off.

I frowned as he caught me looking and flashed me one of his stupidly gorgeous grins that made my heart beat a little faster. Turning away, I fixed my eyes on the floor and let him maneuver me further into the sea of eyes that were fixated on us.

People were staring. Of course they would. Kioshi was their prince charming. And to be fair, I wasn't exactly someone you'd expect him to be around.

I fixed my eyes on the ground. There was nothing I hated more than being the centre of attention.

My plan to survive the sure to be humiliating ordeal was to stick by him like glue because I knew I'd be fucked if he left me alone. The last time I'd been at a party I'd ended up waking up in his bed dressed in his shirt (which I hated to admit I still slept in because it was comfortable as fuck and nothing to do with the fact that it was his) and then meeting his charming sister which ended with her shoving half-burn pancakes down my throat.

Long day.

"You know," I jumped as the sound of his voice right by my ear. "It would help if you looked a little more happy to be here."

"But I'm not happy to be here," I grumbled.

He breathed out a laugh which fanned across my neck and left chills in its path. "Your funny Bambi."

He pushed a cup in my hand and moved away to talk to someone.

I stared at the ground with a silly little smile on my face. He thought I was funny. Maybe the party wouldn't be so terrible after all.

Woah.

The smile disappeared from my face.

Since when did I care what Kioshi Harada thought of me?

Never. That's when. But I couldn't stop myself from sneaking a look at the line of skin exposed by his top when he leaned forward to high-five his friends.

If I traced my tongue across that band of skin, how would it feel? How would it taste? What if I ran my hands lower and traced over his waistband that clung on so teasingly to his hips? What if I pulled them down and-