2:29 AM

Chapter Thirteen

I shove him away from me. "You're supposed to flatter me to the point where I rip off my pants, you're not supposed to get into them by seducing me," I say. "So, start flattering me."

Colton sighs and pulls back a few centimeters. "Fine, I'll play by the rules, just this once," he says. His eyes bore into mine.

"You're supposed to start now," I tell him.

"You know you want me," Colton says.

"Try again," I tell him. He moves in a bit closer and puts his hand on my stomach, his fingers naturally finding the bare sliver of skin.

"Your lips curl down when you're thinking like you are now," he says, his fingers trace my bottom lip and my lips part. Shit. "But when you smile, your entire face lights up. Mainly your eyes. You eyes say everything, like right now, they're dark, which means lust...which means that you're feeling attraction towards me." His fingers slide down my stomach to toy with the waistband of my shorts. "How am I doing so far?"

"Not bad, but you're going to have to do a lot better," I say. His eyes are so pretty and he has his slight dip in his bottom lip...fuck! I'm losing it. Focus, Andy, focus.

"When you walk, your hips sway with confidence. That's because no matter how you deny it, you're a confident person. You pretend to be hard and without weakness," he says, he whispers, "but you're soft on the inside." His fingers trail up and I shiver as they slip up my back. "How am I doing now?"

"Not half bad," I say.

"And you smell good, kind of floral, but kind of not. Almost...," he trails off and his face drops into the crook of my neck and then he says, "I can't describe it...but very sexy and alluring."

Oh, Jesus. He's actually affecting me. And he knows it. He grins at me, like he knows he's won. His hands slide up to my shoulders and then trace my collar bone. He also moves a bit closer to me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. If he moves any closer, I probably will jump him in the backseat.

"Hey, we're at a diner. Come on, let's get some food," Victoria calls back. I push Colton away from me and get out of the car. I shove my shorts down and pull my shirt up. Colton's smirking.

We order food, and Colton sits on my side of the booth. Our food comes, I got scrambled eggs and sausage and Colton got pancakes. He naturally starts to eat some of my food. I can't even say that I care at this point. Victoria and Mason seem happy, she keeps giggling at things that he whispers to her. I roll my eyes.

Colton sees and says, "What's wrong, Mo? Don't like people in love?"

"No...it's just...I dunno," I say.

"It's just what?" he asks.

"Love turns people into idiots," I tell him.

"I like to think it's sweet," Colton says.

"And I like to think that you're a conceited, womanizing pervert. You see how the world works?" I say. He smirks at me. And then he actually starts singing "Womanizer" by Britney Spears.

"Shut up! People are looking at us!" I hiss at Colton as I hit his arm.

"People are not looking at us," he says, and then goes back to singing. I'm trying really hard not to smile because Colton, of all people, a two hundred and twenty pound athlete with a motorcycle is singing Britney Spears and dancing.

He sees me trying not smile and smirks. "Who knew that all it would take to get into your pants would be singing some Brittney?" He's smiling with dimples.

"You're never going to get in my pants. Ever," I tell him. He shrugs.

"Don't be so sure, Mo," he says. He takes a bite of my eggs. I eat some of his pancake.

"Hey, Andy, did you tell your parents about our trip?" Victoria asks me.

"Sure." They're not going to notice if I'm gone. At least, Dad might. I sent him a quick text. Colton takes a drink of my coffee. "Get your own," I tell him.

"Why?" he asks "I sang to you, so I deserve some of your coffee."

"Jesus," I mutter. "Can you scoot out?" I ask Colton.

"Why?"

"Because I need to get out of the booth and you're currently blocking me in," I tell him.

"So? Crawl over me," he says.

"Eat a dick," I say as I start to slide over him. He stops me by grabbing onto my hips. I shake him off and finish sliding over him. "Can I have your keys? I'm going to change out of my pajamas," I say to Mason. He nods and hands me the keys.

"I'll go with too," Colton says, "I can be your lookout." I sigh and walk to the car.

"If I catch you looking in the window, watching me change, I'll tell the entire school that you worked as a prostitute since you were fifteen and that you have all kinds of shit going on down there. We clear?" I ask him. He stares warily at me.

"Crystal," he says.

"Good," I say. I walk around to the back and pull out shorts and my favorite shirt, which is a ratty old blue one with Stitch on the front. It's short and tight, probably because I've had it since I was ten. I smile. "Don't try any shit," I tell Colton. I climb into the backseat and shimmy out of my pajama shorts. I pull my jean shorts on and then take off my shirt. I look at Colton and he's looking at me, but at my face, not my boobs. I slip on the shirt quickly and get out of the car.

"I wasn't looking at you!" Colton says.

"I made eye contact with you! You were obviously looking at me," I tell him.

"Yeah, well, kind of. Not really," he says. I stare at him. "I mean, I was looking at you but I wasn't really looking at you."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, and I'm about five seconds away from killing you," I tell him.

"Okay, okay! I was looking at you...but not in a checking you out way," Colton says.

"What other ways do you even look at girls?"

"If you don't tell everyone at school that I have a bunch of STD's then I won't tell them you have a Stitch t-shirt. Deal?" He looks at me innocently.

"Deal," I grumble.

"I like you shirt by the way," he says. He leans against the car.

"Thanks," I say. It's so short that it stops an inch from my belly button. Luckily, Victoria packed me high waisted shorts. "You're never getting into my pants."

"Why do you have to make that so apparent? Are you telling me or yourself?" he says. I narrow my eyes at him.

"I'm just telling it how it is. I want to make sure that you know my thighs are closed," I say. He kind of shrugs.

"Whatever you have to tell yourself," he says.

"You're a dick," I tell him.

"A dick that you have to spend another six hours in a car with."

"I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual."