I frown at him. “What?”
“The kind of guy who sticks everyone into a category. Mia: best friend and a girl. Brayden: asshole jock. Me: dad’s live-in spy.” He smirks at me. “You: openly gay, sarcastic little shit.”
My lips curl into a wicked grin. “You forgot to add hot for me.”
“And hot,” he indulges, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Sound about right?”
“It’s why I love psychology. Everyone has a warning label.”
“Warning labels, huh?”
“Yep.”
“What exactly are you protecting yourself from, Dr. Carter?”
I bristle at his words. “I just like knowing what people are so I can deal with them.”
“What if people are more than one thing? What if they’re not bad?”
“You’re starting to sound a lot like my therapist.”
“You deflect with jokes and sarcasm. You’re cynical and standoffish. People want in, Ashton, but you won’t let them because you’re a pussy.”
“Fuck off. Is this the shitty pep talks you give your players? If so, you should rethink your methods.”
“If you like Mia, then go after the fucking girl, man. Ignore the labels you’ve placed on each of you and just let your feelings guide you.”
His words burrow their way deep inside me.
“Too late,” I tell him bitterly. “Already let her go off on a date with your bestie Brayden.”
He tenses at the mention of Brayden, which only makes me want to pick at that scab more.
“What’s your story with him anyway? No offense, but I like you. How were you two ever anything that would require you to be protective over him even when he’s a total dick to you?” I ask, frowning at him. “I’m not blind. You want to be in his life in some capacity and he blocks you out.”
Drew drags his palm down his face before turning his icy blue eyes my way. “He was my best friend. We were competitive as shit, but when it came down to it, we had each other’s backs.”
“Until?”
He searches my eyes for a long moment before putting it in a way I completely understand. “I was a labels guy too.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I’m trying like hell to get my friend back. It’s probably too little too late, but I’m going to damn well try.”
“Need me to run interference?”
He frowns.
“Whatever. I don’t know jock sports jargon. I’m asking, do you want me to help? Not that I can talk to him, but I could probably terrorize him enough to send him your way needing a friend.” I chuckle darkly. “It’s the least I could do for him stealing my girl.”
Drew’s eyebrows fly up. “Your girl?”
I flinch at how that sounds. “You know what I mean.”
“I can handle Bray,” he states. “But now that he’s set his sights on Mia, I’m not sure you can. He’s a relentless, competitive brat when he wants to be.” He smiles like he’s proud of this.
“I’m going to talk to her,” I say with growing confidence. “When she gets back, I’ll go over there and tell her how I feel.”
“You should shower first.”
“There’s enough room for two in there,” I offer. “You look as though you could use one yourself.”
His blue eyes flash in a deviant way that makes my dick twitch. “Nah, I can wash my dick all by myself like a big boy.”
With those words, he leaves me to myself.
And I absolutely rub one out in the shower to the image of him doing just that.
The second I start hearing sounds through the wall of Mia’s apartment, signaling she’s home, I bolt. I took Drew’s advice and pulled myself together. My hair is fixed, I have on cologne, and I’m wearing something Dad would approve of. I texted her earlier that we needed to talk, but she never responded. Now, I’m going to get my girl.
She screams out in surprise when I fling open her front door.
For a moment, I simply stare at her. Mia really is beautiful. Today, her brown eyes seem soft and her pink lips look puffier than usual. The thought of kissing them has me prowling toward her, a man on a mission. She gasps in shock when my hand grips her jaw. I dart my gaze all over her soft, pretty features before inhaling her scent.
Him.
She smells like Brayden.
And that has an annoyingly possessive need to claim her rising up inside of me.
“You said we were going to talk,” she says, her words breathless.
“We’ll talk later.”
I crush my lips to hers, desperate to see if the kiss we shared before was a drunk mistake. But the moment my lips fuse to hers, I’m starved for her. My free hand slides into her mussed up hair and I clutch onto her, needing her to stay here with me. A small, surprised moan escapes her. Greedily, my tongue slides across hers, wanting to taste the sound straight from the source.
Sweet.
I’ve never kissed someone so sweet.
Mia is Twizzlers and Fireball and Skittles and happiness.
I could develop cavities from this kiss, and it’d be worth it.
As our kiss deepens, and her breath comes out in pants, I start thinking ahead. Mia naked. Mia’s tits. Mia’s pussy.
Does a pussy feel good?
What if it doesn’t?
Images of us in bed, me unable to perform, threaten my sanity. That would be fucked up. She would hate me. I would hate me.
The kiss turns sour.
Breaking away from her lips, I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, MiMi.”
Sorry for being an asshole.
Sorry for not understanding who I am.
Sorry for the label I want to slap right over your mouth so you won’t fucking frown at me.
“Ashton,” she hisses.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out again, bailing as quickly as I arrived.
Sounds grow distorted and the room spins as I bolt. I’m disgusted. Not with Mia, with myself. I’m a dick. A total, fucking brainless dick.
She calls after me, but I’m already pushing back into my apartment. Drew seems to be headed out based on the fact he’s now dressed, but when I stumble, colliding with him, his strong hands grip my shoulders to
