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“You normally don’t care.”
“Oh, I care.” He looked away, turning his head as if the truth had slapped him. “I care too fucking much, that’s the problem.”
A snowflake landed on my nose. Row scooped it with the pad of his thumb, slowly popping it into his mouth. I grinned.
“What?” His forehead creased. “I wanted to see why you always taste the weather.”
“Verdict?”
“Tasteless.”
Our mouths were less than an inch away. A rush of warmth and adrenaline coursed through my veins. My lips gravitated toward his. Row pulled away slightly. I groaned in frustration. He flattened his hand on my stomach, walking me backward, toward the swings. “Anyway. I learned from a very young age that hope was the cruelest form of punishment. You offer me hope, Cal. It’s a tempting deal, but I’d be a fool to take it, knowing who you are and who I am.”
He was still backing me toward the swings, while I watched his face, mesmerized. “Who am I?” I whispered.
“A person who can’t fall in love, doesn’t want to fall in love, and has deep trust issues with men. Flaky and unreliable.” He continued walking me backward, and I continued stumbling in his desired direction.
“And who are you?” I gulped.
“A man who can’t fucking resist you.” He dragged his fingers through his mane. “But I’ll be doing both of us a disservice if I don’t state this outright—I don’t care about the consequences. I want you. And what I want, I get.”
“Row, I…” But I didn’t really know what I wanted to say. That maybe I could fall in love? That I was afraid if we started something, I would be left destroyed?
He removed his hand from my tummy, plastering a finger over my mouth to shut me up. The backs of my thighs crashed against the swing’s seat.
“Don’t, Dot. Don’t try to convince me you’re unlikable. I want you. You’re funny, authentic, sassy, and have the best ass I’ve ever seen. And I’m not being hyperbolic.” Pause. “We’re going to have a brief, no-strings-attached hookup while we’re both in this shithole, and then we’re gonna go back to our respective lives. Whatever state I’ve gotten myself into after this thing is my business and my business alone. If I can’t have the heart, I’ll take the pussy.”
I could do this. I could do casual. With him, my body could open up. It was my heart I was worried about.
“We’re two passing ships.” He cupped my cheek.
His hand was warm and inviting, and I wanted to press into it, to get lost in him. Did he say this to assure me or himself?
“Now that we’ve established we’re both messed up,” he threaded his fingers in my hair, tugging it slowly to extend my neck and tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “How about we make tonight interesting?”
“Was this evening not eventful enough for you?” I spluttered.
He chuckled, rubbing the spot next to my bandaged forehead soothingly. “Remember you and Dylan had a game? You called it swingers.”
“Is that what we called it?” I snorted. “Clearly, we did not think it through.”
“You stood up on the swings and whoever fell first, lost.”
I remembered that. Amazingly, I should add, considering the amount of concussions I’d suffered as a result.
“What are we betting?” I probed, feeling beautiful and alluring and worthy under his gaze. Every girl needed a Row Casablancas to make her feel seen.
“If you fall first…” He bracketed his arms on either side of me, gripping the swing chains and trapping me in place, his vodka breath skating down my face.
“If I fall first?” I whispered, wondering if we were still talking about the swings.
“You let me kiss you.”
His words soaked into my skin. Goose bumps rolled over every inch of my flesh.
“And if I win,” I said slowly, watching him as his eyes traced my lips hungrily. “You make me and Mamushka a three-course picnic lunch. We’re going to spread Dad’s ashes and I want to make a day of it.”
“Done,” he said without missing a beat.
