Page 6 of Make You Mine

I scoff. “If you gave a damn about being civil, you wouldn’t take the nachos all for yourself.”

“Who’s taking—” He pauses, stares at where he placed the snacks, and smirks. “You can reach them, sis.”

“I’m not putting my hands anywhere near your dick, Kayden.”

“Why?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Scared it might bite?”

I dart my gaze away, sipping from my drink and praying my hunger goes away.

“Or…” he says the words incredibly slowly, his voice lower. “Scared you won’t be able to stop yourself if you get too close?”

I stand up again on impulse, press the drink back to him, and fold my arms. “I don’t need this anymore. I’m leaving. This was a mistake.”

He places the nachos on the arm of his seat and stands up, with both drinks in his hands. “Wait! I’m sorry, I⁠—”

The guy behind us clears his throat.

“Hold on.” Kayden glares at him and attempts to continue talking to me.

Another clearing of throat, louder this time.

“I said hold the fuck on, dude.” Kayden grits his teeth, his voice way louder than before.

The man goes on to ignore us, tilting his head to see the game that just started.

“I may have overdone it a bit. I’m sorry. It’s been a while. Old habits are hard to quit, Madelyn. That’s all. Stay.” He passes me back my drink. “Please?”

I sigh. “Fine. But the nachos are mine.”

“All yours. I’ll get you more if you want. Or hot dogs. Pretzels. Any requests?”

“How about less of you talking?”

We take our seats again.

“I’m afraid no can do, Little Demon.”

And there it is again—that nickname he grew so fond of calling me when we were young and stupid.

“Then stop beating around the bush, because you’re not here to watch the game. And I’m sure as hell not watching it.” I leave my drink aside and pop a gooey, cheese nacho into my mouth. “What do you want, Kayden?”

He fixes his deep blue eyes on mine. “What do you want, Maddy?”

“For starters? For you to stop doing…that.”

“What’s that?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing. The…” I point at him. “The staring deep into my eyes and trying to trap me. I’m not playing that game anymore.”

“I am not trying to do anything. Chill. Let’s talk.”

“About what?”

“About everything.” He pauses. He turns to me, leaning forward and picking out a streak of long brown hair from my face, pushing it behind my ear.

My heart skips a beat.

“I miss the pink, by the way,” he says.