Page 42 of Twisted Needs

“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “No.”

He puckers his lips and nods. “Yeah. I think I will.” His mouth pulls into a shit-eating grin and it hits me like a slap in the face. “Thirty minutes. I’ll meet you by the car.” There’s no room to argue. Not when he’s casted some kind of fucking spell on me. He taps me on the cheek with his glove before skating off, leaving me dead in my tracks.

There is something seriously wrong with me.

I don’t dare turn and look at the driver’s seat. I’ve already given him the satisfaction of getting in his car. But I can’t help myself. I’m just too far gone.

“You hungry?” Parker asks, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

The buzz of soft rock music fills the car, but for some reason the only thing I can focus on hearing is the sound of my own heart drumming in my chest. Anger, frustration. Weakness. I have no one to blame but myself for getting into the car.

“No,” I murmur. “Had something earlier from the concession stand.”

“No you didn’t.”

I exhale sharply through my nose.

“I’ll make you some lunch.”

Finally, I turn and look at him. “I thought you were taking me back to my dorm.”

Parker shrugs casually. “Lunch first.”

“So this is a kidnapping.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he tells me, lowering his voice.

My entire body flashes with heat. Guilt pings through me, binding me to his each and every whim. I do want this. Deep down, I’m enjoying this. Being wanted like this. This is what being friends with Parker is like. Having lunch together. Having a casual chat in the car…

I’m just lying to myself. There’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at me right now. No. He’s looking at me like he’s read every thought in the back of my mind. He smiles at me like he’s the only person who can interpret the very language spoken in my soul.

“Okay,” I murmur plainly. “Then what is this? What’s the end goal here?”

“To ruin your day, maybe,” he smirks.

I roll my eyes and laugh incredulously. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So,” Parker starts, setting a plate down on the kitchen island in front of me. Just a plain peanut butter and honey sandwich because he knows I don’t really like the texture of jelly. “This Seth guy…” He pops the tab on a sprite and pours it into a glass before sliding the glass over to me.

“What?” I shrug, immediately taking a sip. “I’m twenty years old, Park.”

“I know,” he murmurs quickly, swallowing a bite of crust. “So you two⁠—”

“That’s not important.”

“Well how long have you known him?”

“A few months.”

“And you like him?”

“He’s funny.”

“Funny.” Parker nods slowly. “That’s your type?”

I huff. “I don’t—why are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not interrogating you, sweetheart, I’m just asking.” He looks away for a moment and sighs. “What do your friends think of him?”