Page 16 of What I Like About You

He wondered if she still had that little nervous tic where she bit the left side of her bottom lip. If he turned her around right now, would she have the cute little deer-in-the-headlights look and the corner of her mouth caught between her teeth?

“Whatever it is you are offering us, I am here for it!” Antwan said, skimming up and down Dalton’s body. Dalton laughed to himself as he watched Antwan drink him in. If Zara really was dating this guy, someone might need to clue her in.

“Zara?” he asked, returning his own gaze back to her.

She spun around slowly, and sure enough, she was biting her lip. Just as he had hoped she would be. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt the blood rush straight to his groin. Damn, she was stunning.

“That’s the pineapple stuff, right?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit. He could tell she was nervous, and it was killing him. He just wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was okay, it was just him, Tripp, and that there was no need to be nervous.

“It is. Drea and company claim it tastes like candy.”

“Okay.”

He smiled as he poured the drinks, hoping that it might help to put her at ease. But her nervous smile back told him that it hadn’t worked. Dalton watched as Zara self-consciously sipped from the shot glass. Her pretty pink lips were full and inviting, and right about now he wished more than anything he were that shot glass and it was him those lips were touching.

“Good, right?” he asked her as she finished her taste.

“It is. I think I agree with the girls—it tastes like candy,” she said, a small smile teasing at her lips.

That smile sent another shot straight to Dalton’s groin. He’d always loved that smile. To this day it was that smile that haunted him. I wonder how your lips taste…

“You know what,” Antwan declared suddenly, dragging Dalton’s attention away from Zara. He’d forgotten the guy was even standing there. Not a good sign if he really was her boyfriend. “I have to tinkle.”

Without skipping a beat, he turned on his heel and walked away from them. Zara scoffed, seemingly unable to find the words for a rebuttal to a grown man who had used the word “tinkle.”

“He’s…interesting…” Dalton said after a moment, making sure Antwan had disappeared far enough into the crowd that his word wouldn’t be heard. It was the only word he could think of that couldn’t be misinterpreted as offensive, and while fitting, still didn’t quite seem to cover the magnitude that was Antwan.

Zara laughed lightly at Dalton’s response. It was the same laugh that had been the soundtrack to his childhood adventures and still played a starring role in his dreams. Damn, he had missed that laugh.

“He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. But, yeah…own drum, as your mother would have put it.”

Hearing her quote his mother’s words caught him off guard. He hadn’t heard anyone use that phrase in a long time. In fact, the last person he remembered hearing use it had been his mother.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good to know someone else remembers her words as fondly as I do.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them as neither of them moved, seemingly afraid of disturbing the balance. For what felt like the millionth time, Dalton wondered what he needed to do to fix this. To get his best friend back.

“Zara, talk to me,” he finally said.

“About what?” she asked, biting her lip again. Dalton felt his dick stir again as she did so, but forced himself to stay focused. Zara wasn't just some chick you fooled around with. She was the forever kind.

“You. Me. Us. That night. Give me the chance to explain,” he said, hoping that he didn’t sound like he was begging. Although, if begging was what it took, he would drop to his knees right here.

“A chance to explain? Tripp, there is no ‘explaining.’ And you said more than enough then. I’ve moved on. And by the looks of it, so have you…although judging from what I've seen, not that much has changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen you check out every girl who’s come within a twenty-foot radius of you. It doesn’t take a ton of brain power to put it together that getting laid is still your priority.”

“Still my priority? Zara, this is me you’re talking to. When was that ever my priority?” he asked. He’d become a bit of a “man-whore”—as he knew she would put it—these last couple of years at the Indigo Royal, however that had been a new development upon his arrival to try and chase away the pain. Some people drank. He flirted with pretty women. And flirted was the key word there. As much as he’d let everyone think he’d slept with all of those women, the truth was, he’d maybe only slept with a third of them. Probably even less than that. He wasn’t even sure how the reputation had started, but it had been easier to just assume the role of playboy than to admit being hung up on a girl from high school.

“Sammie Smith, sophomore year,” she answered, looking him in the eye.

“That’s not fair. When the head cheerleader offers to sleep with you in exchange for chem notes, you give the girl your chem notes!”

“They were my chem notes.”