𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐕𝐈

• 16 •

I like to imagine that the secret agent behind my phone camera switches to watching Rihanna scroll through Fenty's stats instead. I am uninteresting. I know that I'll be somebody someday, but at this point in life, I am no one special just yet. That's why it's still a big fucking mystery why Keenan Travino wants to kiss me, but one thing's for sure: I want to kiss him too.

When I stared up at the man, my self-consciousness made itself known. From feeling pretty, I suddenly felt insecure because fuck, of all the lips in the world, Keenan wants mine on his birthday? Like... like cake? Am I hearing this correctly? It's like saying that the cast of Hi-5 had a secret anti-child cult or that Robert Pattinson loved Twilight.

"Are you sure?" I blurted out, receiving a look from Keenan which told me that I am ruining the moment.

He rolled his eyes and I wondered if I had ruined the moment completely, "Do I look like I'm joking?" asked the birthday boy. He pulled me closer, close enough to make babies.

"No, but why me?" my voice was like a squeak. I earned a glare, but I always do. Keenan is generous with his hatred.

"Stop asking dumb questions," he muttered, one hand finding my elbow. It's a little gesture, but it had me feeling like a baby—Keenan's baby, of all damn baby owners. He took my hands and put them on his shoulders.

I don't know why I just can't shut my big
mouth, "It's not stupid," my head leaned to the right, assessing Keenan and all his annoyed beauty, "I still don't know why you bother messing around with me."

His frown deepened, "Don't you think one compliment is enough?"

Only Keenan can flatter and irk a woman at the same time. I stared at him again—really stared at him and wondered how the hell I managed to end up in the arms of my favorite writer, him saying that he wants a kiss from me. This is the thrill that the universe provided me with and I shouldn't complain.

"Thank you for the compliment," I told him, "Even though you wouldn't have said it if I didn't tell you to," I squeezed his shoulders and felt hard muscle. Holy Thistle, to grip on these bad boys in bed.

Still with his brows knitted like grandma's sweater, he sighed in thick annoyance. He pursed his pink lips, licked them, and spoke once more, "What matters is that you heard me say it. I don't throw compliments around, Gia."

I snorted, "Obviously," and was rewarded by a squeeze to my waist and a tug at my
hips.

"Well, I'm not repeating myself," Keenan told me, visibly and audibly irritated. Do you think he uses tampons or pads? I feel like Kiki's more of a napkin woman, "Do you want this or not?"

"Are you drunk?" I questioned. This time, I'm the one who shot a compliment in disguise, "Because I don't think a guy like you would wanna kiss me sober."

I've been with hot men. Heck, I almost fucked Adil Essa, but Keenan is pretty much a celebrity and the fact that I'm no one bugs me. Yes, it didn't bother me when his fingers were deep inside my sex, but now it is bothering me because there's a sixty percent chance that our kiss won't be just a 'kiss'. We're not in seventh grade. I'm aware that there are bedrooms just across the hall.

Keenan walked and when he walked, I followed. He walked forward and I backed away until I felt the edge of the desk dig against my ass. His eyes on my face made me wanna cower and hide in a hole until I was immune to gorgeous rich males with arrogance, all under the name Keenan Travino. The big man put his hands on the desk, caging me in between like what the hot leads do in chick flicks. Then I realized that maybe I am in a chick flick. Oh, god.