Page 83 of Make Me Mean It

I am not doing this.

Not here, with Marcus sitting across from me.

Movement beside me pulls at the edge of my vision, Theo’s ringed fingers sliding into my space and plucking the Twizzler straight from between my lips.

My head jerks up, finding him close enough that I catch the faint sheen across his split bottom lip as he brings the Twizzler to his mouth, his tongue flicking out around the end before his teeth close around it.

Slowly.

Those green eyes locked on mine the entire time.

Then he winks.

Yesterday comes back with a force that knots my stomach, my brain not having the decency to give me the parts I can ignore. It gives me Theo on his knees. My fingers buried in his hair. Those same green eyes looking up at me while his mouth-

Fuck.

“You don’t mind, right, princess?” Theo asks, as if he hasn’t just taken something directly from my mouth and made a fucking performance out of putting it into his.

My mouth opens, and every useful word I’ve ever learned has abandoned me.

He chews slowly, still watching me with that smug look, knowing exactly what he’s done, and I drop my eyes before he gets the satisfaction of seeing any more.

A Twizzler.

That’s all it is.

Except the taste of strawberry is still on my tongue, and now I’m thinking about his mouth again.

“Asshole,” I mutter, finally managing to find my voice.

Theo huffs a laugh and drops onto the sofa beside me, the cushion dipping beneath his weight and tipping me towards him until our shoulders knock together.

Theo either doesn’t notice or, more likely, decides to make himself comfortable anyway, stretching back into the cushions and kicking his feet up beside Marcus’s on the coffee table.

My knee knocks sharply into his thigh, jolting his legs with the force of it, and my stomach drops as soon as I realise what I’ve done.

Shit.

I keep my eyes fixed ahead, heat creeping up my neck as the silence stretches. His attention drops to the coffee table, and I brace myself for whatever smart-ass comment is coming.

The eye roll. Princess. Some deliberately irritating remark about me kicking him because I can’t cope with a pair of shoes on the table.

Instead, Theo gives a low hum and drops his feet back to the floor without saying a word.

My eyes flick up to him, and he’s already watching me, no challenge in his eyes. Theo took one look at me, worked out why I’d reacted and moved his feet without making me feel ridiculous for it.

I turn back to my notes, too aware of his shoulder against mine.

“Thanks,” I mutter, keeping my voice low enough that Marcus won’t hear, Theo going strangely still against me.

When I glance back, I catch the brief surprise crossing his face before he manages to hide it, and for once neither of us seems to know what to say. We just look at each other until Theo gives me a small nod, his shoulder shifting almost imperceptibly against mine.

The scratching of my pen fills the silence between us until Theo’s hand moves at the edge of my vision. He pulls the Twizzler from his mouth and holds it out towards me.

My writing trails off as I stare at the end glistening faintly between his fingers.

He’s actually offering it back.