Pencils & Polaroids

42: spicy chicken

(warning: this chapter contains mature sexual scenes)

Instead of peeling away from the door, Rainer leans against it with a lazy smile. 

Crossing my arms and tapping my foot, I wait for him to explain his actions. He doesn't. If there were 131 ways to get on my nerves, he'd so far mastered it all. He can effortlessly piss me off. He reads me like a book he's picked up for the hundredth time--pft, he can read me backwards. When that kind of power is capitalized by someone as shrewd as him, people like me tend to deteriorate. 

On the bright side, he'd at least get my autobiography right. 

"What, you want me to fight you?" I refer to his body barrier and he laughs with a noise erupting from the back of his throat. "Get out of my way." 

He chooses to answer by resting his head on the door. "You don't look fine." 

His hand attempts to touch my cheek but I take my best friend's suggestion and slap it away. "Then stop looking." 

For some reason, that makes him smile even more. Without looking away, he adds. "I can hear you." 

"Wow, your ears do work! How about you listen to me now when I say move." I stress each word. 

He shakes his head. "No, I hear your mind. I can hear what you're thinking." I roll my eyes looking away. "I can't believe Sam was right." I scowl when he does a bad job mimicking my voice. "He played me. He's an asshole. I should not have let my guard down. This is Rainer Barcross, nothing good can ever come from him. I should have known. I am so stupid." 

When I say "Shut up" like a roar, he bursts out laughing. "You eavesdropped." 

He shrugs, "I was curious. Your best friend, however, didn't seem pleased with this." He motions his hand between us. 

I repeat the gesture. "This, is non-existant. And stop snooping." 

He licks his lips before letting out a smirk. "If I hadn't pried, I'd have never known you felt good."

I flush with embarrassment when I connect the dots to the context and the instance of admitting the kiss felt good. I'm scarlet red--half blushing and half on fire. This is why people say some things are better left unsaid. Which I usually realize after I say them. 

"I didn't. I lied." This is the worst damage control ever. 

"You're a terrible liar." He slides both his hands into his pockets. "And a chicken. You told me once that if you wanted to kiss me, you would. Right now, when I see your eyes and peek into your mind, all you want to do is make out. Yet, you lack the balls to do it." 

My teeth grind as I clench my jaw. "Dig deeper into my mind. You'll find me wanting to slap you too." He looks away with a coy smile. "What was this a fucking test? To see if I'd break and give in?" 

"Honestly? Yeah." He chuckles. "You listened to my thirty-minute monologue about team spirit--what the fuck is wrong with you?" 

"It means you're unattractive. Take the hint." I bruise that male ego. 

He breaks away from the door. "You drive me insane." 

I take a baby step back when I see him advancing me. "Don't blame me for your psychosis."

"You are my fucking psychosis." 

He snags the jacket from my hand and yanks it to the floor while he wraps his other hand around my waist and lugs me to his chest. He gives another in for me to seize when he comes too close to my mouth and waits. I merely smirk and I see how that drives him mad.