Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“But you need to know this is who I am. This is what it’s like to be my friend. And this is why I don’t have a lot of them. So if you can accept my apology, knowing that I’ll probably do something similar again—and very soon—then we can try to be friends. If not, then that sucks, but I get it.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling. He sounded so sincere and awkward through that whole speech. I’d already forgiven him the moment he showed up at my door.

“You want to be friends?”

He nods slowly, his brows crinkling in confusion.

I shake my head and throw his words back at him. “I don’t know, Park. I don’t think I can be friends with someone I’m attracted to.”

His brows smooth out and his posture relaxes as he grins at me. “I knew it,” he says, his voice taking on this hypnotically sexy tone. “So we won’t be friends.”

“Then what will we be?”

He nibbles on his lip as he regards me. “You still opposed to one night stands?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hm.” He crosses his arms and lets his brown eyes travel the length of my body. “That is a damn shame.” He shakes his head and smirks at me. “Well, we sure aren’t enemies.”

I lick my lips and nod in agreement. “No. We’re not.”

“So if we’re not friends, and we’re not enemies, and we can’t…have sex, then what’s left?”

I know what’s left, but I also know Park doesn’t date. I’m pretty sure he’s allergic. I wouldn’t want to see him all rashy. I shrug. “I guess we’ll have to come up with our own name.”

Bree peeks her head through the doorway. “How about Lurk?” She beams at me. “Oh, or Parcy!”

Park stares at her blankly. “What the hell is she saying?”

“I have no idea,” I say quickly, shooting her the “go-away-now-or-I’ll-murder-you-in your-sleep” look. She laughs and bounces away.

“On second thought,” I decide, “how about we don’t give it a label.”

Park flinches and narrows his eyes on me. He looks away quickly. “Fine,” he says roughly. “Yeah. We don’t need to name this. We are what we are.” He shrugs stiffly. “Maybe we’ll be friends. Maybe we won’t.” He picks up the box from the table and I’m replaying the whole conversation, trying to figure out what I said to piss him off now.

“Where can I hook this up? I thought your brothers might want to play some Playstation with me.”

Oh, my God. That’s so sweet. I smile, but he doesn’t return it. “Um, in the living room,” I say quietly.

He nods and ducks out of the kitchen without another word.

***

After Bree and I get the dinner mess cleaned up, she goes downstairs to “watch a movie” with Jessie. I go to the living room and try to play a video game.

I do not play video games. I never have. I’m not even positive exactly how I should hold the controller as I perch on the front of the couch. Ozzy and Jeremy have no issues and laugh hysterically at me every time my guy dies—which is constantly.

Park is even chuckling at me as I fling my arms, trying to make the stupid little man on the TV jump. Finally he slides in behind me, his legs on either side of mine and his chest pressed against my back.

His rough cheek brushes mine as he wraps his hands around the controller, his fingers over mine. He smells good, that crisp, clean scent with the familiar lingering of his cigarettes. His breath is minty from the tic tacs Jeremy handed out after we all ate garlic bread. And he’s warm. Very, very warm.

“This is the button to jump.” He presses his thumb down on mine and the guy on the screen jumps.

“Uh-huh,” I whisper, but I have no idea which button I just pressed.

“No matter how much you swing your arms, he’ll only jump if you press this button.” He presses down again, but now my head is turned and I’m looking at his profile. I note he has a scar on his earlobe that I never saw before. I shiver as I think about pulling it into my mouth and sucking on it.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Park’s arms tighten around my waist and he twists his head to look at me. Our noses brush and I shiver again, my arms breaking out in goose bumps. He releases my hands and runs his fingers over my forearms like he’s mesmerized by how they feel.

“This is going to be a problem for me,” he says into my ear. His breath grazes my skin and damn if I don’t shudder again. His body jerks and he grips my arms.

“What?” I breathe.

“There is no way I can get up. Not for a while at least.”

My brows draw together. “What do—” And then it occurs to me as he chuckles into my hair.

He clears his throat and places his fingers back on mine. “You guys ready to play another round?”

My brothers agree enthusiastically. Ozzy pushes his glasses up his little nose and talks smack to Park.

Park plays along, teasing him like he’s known him longer than a couple hours. He starts clicking at buttons quickly and I just end up settling back against him. I let him play, guiding my fingers wherever they’re supposed to go. I try to figure out what I’m going to do about these feelings I shouldn’t be having for him.

16

Park

I put my index finger to my lips and wink at Lucy. She smiles and nods. I tip my head to the left and raise my Super Soaker. She slides along the wall—secret agent style. I hold back a chuckle. She takes this game so seriously.

Halfway through breakfast, Jessie leaned into Lucy and very calmly said two words that had everyone jumping up and forming teams. “Water War.”

I claimed Lucy as my teammate immediately. Bree took Ozzy and Jessie joined Jeremy. Leaving our pancakes, we all took off to find a form of water weapon.

As great as Lucy is, she sucks at Water War. When she grabbed that little squirt gun she shot me with the first time I met her, I plucked it from her hand and threw it over my shoulder. She was mad until I produced Super Soakers. Chase and I had filled them with cheap tequila and took them to a party. We shot girls in the mouth all night. Good times.

Lucy made me wash them out before she agreed to use them. It set us back. That’s why we’re sneaking around by the staircase.

The floor creaks above us as we approach the landing. I spin around and grip Lucy’s waist. I roll us along the wall, pressing my body into hers, and then pulling hers into mine as we turn. I’m being dramatic, but it gives me the excuse to feel her against me.

Her shirt comes up slightly and I trail my fingers across her bare back. I feel the muscles pull tight, twitching against my hand, and I apply more pressure. Lucy’s head drops forward, resting on my shoulder.

I walk my fingers up her skin and slip them under the clasp of her bra. She tilts her head so she can look at me. I can feel her breathe against my chin, soft and warm. I want to inhale it. Taste it. Drink every ounce of her breath.

The quick padding of little feet gives away Ozzy’s approach. Lucy jumps back, falling back into game mode. She holds out three fingers, folding them in as she counts down.

Three.

Two.

One.

I grin at her as we spring around the corner and fire. They double-crossed us. Jeremy and Jessie joined Bree and Ozzy’s team. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, I’m being hit by four different streams of water. Jessie and that damn water cooler being the most efficient. I’m soaked.

Lucy’s fairly dry, and laughing. I turn my gun on her. She tilts her head to the side to keep her face out of the attack, and I lunge at her. Wrapping my hands around hers, I angle her gun up and spray until I’ve drenched every inch of her head.

She squirms in my arms, her back pressing into my front, and she squeals loudly.

And then I feel a sharp pain in my leg. I jerk back and try to shake my calf, but there’s a kid attached.

“Son of a—” It takes everything in me not to kick Ozzy off. His teeth are embedded deep into my flesh and it hurts like hell.

“Oswald,” Lucy cries. “No. Get off him.” She drops down to her knees and squeezes the kid’s cheeks in between her fingers, trying to pry his mouth from my leg. When he releases me, I jump back out of biting range.

Lucy hugs him to her tightly, rubbing his back. I kind of want to hit him.

“It’s okay, Oz. I’m fine. We were just playing. I’m all right. I promise.”

Jeremy laughs and shakes his head. “He got you good. You’re bleeding.”

Lucy gasps and pulls back from her little brother. She grabs his face and looks at his mouth. “Gross Oz. You got his blood in your mouth.” She glances at my leg and then up at me. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“He bit me.” I know I’m stating the obvious, but that little shit bit me.

Jessie chuckles and covers his mouth quickly. I glare at him and he holds his hands up, shaking his head, but the smile’s still there.

Lucy stands up, pulling her brother to her side. “I tried to warn you—”

“I don’t recall you saying shit about your brother being a zombie wannabe.” As soon as I say it, though, I realize that’s what she was trying to tell me when I freaked out yesterday.

It must show on my face because her only response is the arching of her brows. “We should get you guys cleaned up.” She turns to Ozzy and narrows her gray eyes. “You know you’re in trouble, right?” He nods slowly, dropping his gaze.

“So who won?” Jeremy asks as we head back to the apartment. I limp behind everyone, blood soaking into my sock.

“We won,” Bree says, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Lucy has this little smirk on her face that I’ll make her pay for later. I’m not seeing the humor in this situation. It hurts like hell. I shoot a look at Ozzy when he peers over his shoulder at me.

“I’m buying you a muzzle,” I hiss. And even though his eyes hold some semblance of remorse, he laughs at me.

Fucking kids.

Life lesson number 10: Do not have children. They’re short, evil demons with homicidal tendencies. In fact, I should go get my balls clipped just to be safe.

I adjust my jeans and sigh. On second thought—fuck that. I’m in enough pain as it is.

Bree says something about helping the flesh eater rinse his mouth. They head up stairs and I turn into my apartment. I rip a paper towel off the roll and start cleaning my leg. There are over six hundred different species of bacteria in the human mouth. I bet kids have even more germs than that. When I was a kid, I would consistently just wet my toothbrush instead of brushing my teeth. I didn’t care about hygiene until I hit puberty and realized girls didn’t want to kiss a dude with bad breath and B.O.

I cringe. Who knows how long it’s been since Ozzy’s brushed his teeth. I probably have thousands of critters slithering into my blood stream.

“You need some help?” Lucy asks. She leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms.

“I need rubbing alcohol.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You should use peroxide. Alcohol will burn.”

“I know what it will do.” Burn the fucking creepy crawlers right off.

She bites her lip like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re kind of a crybaby,” she says quietly.

“It hurts.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Then why you calling me a baby?” I sound like a baby.

She gazes at me. “You’re pouting.”

“I am not.” Okay, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am straight up being a sulky little bitch.

“Will you feel better if I kiss it?”

I raise a brow and nod. “Definitely.”

Lucy bends down, resting on her knees. She leans forward and suddenly I’m not in pain anymore. Her hair is wet and it sticks to me, tickling the hairs on my legs. She glides a soft kiss to the skin above the bite wound. When she sits back on her feet and looks up at me, I want to grip the back of her neck and crush my mouth to hers. I want her so fucking badly.