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trust him at all.”
    “I don’t trust him either, but he’s never been all that bad to me.”
    “Never underestimate what certain people are capable of. If he’s not good to anybody else, it’s only a matter of time he won’t be good to you. Just keep an eye on what’s happening around you and let me know if anything ever happens. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
    He was being extremely clear about this, and I nodded my head immediately to cool off whatever anger was brimming at the surface in him in regards to my uncle. It was like he knew something I didn’t, and I would have asked if I had a chance at getting a straight answer. But Carter would have told me by now if he wanted me to know.
    “Good,” he muttered under his breath.
    We’d lain there for a while in silence. It was never uncomfortable. His anger faded away quickly and he was grabbing at my hand now and squeezing each finger. It was something we’d been doing for years, and it felt damn good.
    I stared at him as he did it. His face was relaxed, his lips curling just a tad at the end. He was so beautiful to me, but I was still hurt at what I witnessed.
    “Did you sing to her ?” I wondered out loud as he squeezed my middle finger.
    “Did I look like I was singing to her?” he responded, chuckling.
    I frowned. “You were kissing the hell out of her.”
    “Absolutely. Can’t blame me.”
    I shut my eyes briefly. Why were guys so detached? How could they kiss a girl and toss them aside? I couldn’t understand it.
    “Don’t read too much into it,” he then went on to say. “She’s not that good at it. I was pretty disappointed if I’m going to be honest.”
    “How could someone not be good at kissing?”
    He shrugged, dropping my hand to the side. “Some people don’t move their lips and expect the other person to do all the work.”
    Huh. I never thought of that.
    “What does kissing feel like?” I then asked him, curiously. “I heard girls at school say kissing an apple is like the same thing.” And I was pretty sure I was one of the very few fifteen year old girls left that hadn’t made out with a guy before.
    “Kissing an apple is not the same thing,” he answered swiftly, holding back another round of laughter. “If we’re going to use fruits to compare the feeling – which is dumb as shit – then it’s more like kissing a mashed up banana.”
    My eyes widened in surprise. “So… gooey.”
    Now he really did laugh – so hard, in fact, he was wheezing. “Oh, fuck, Leah. Holy hell, you make me laugh.”
    “Did Pomposa make you laugh too?”
    He turned on his side so that he was facing me, his mouth formed into a wide grin. His face was a little red from all that laughter – because apparently my curious mind is that hilarious – and whispered to me, “No girl has ever made me laugh except you.”
    And then he did something strange. He took hold of my chin with his hand and turned it to him. My heart sped up at the random touch. He stared into my eyes for a while longer, searching for something with that unreadable look on his face. Then his fingers left my chin, sliding up my cheek to brush a few strands of hair behind my ear.
    When he eventually dropped his hand, his eyes never left mine. He did this at times. Just looked at me with a weird thoughtful expression, and then he looked away like nothing happened, returning to his normal, cocky self. God, he wasn’t playing fair. Just when I tried to live with knowing nothing was ever going to happen, he did this. I wondered if he wanted to keep me keen. The cocky bastard had it in him.
    I stared at his lips and felt my chest stir. Right then I wanted him to kiss me. To remove my curiosity once and for all so I knew just wonderful mashed-banana-feeling kisses could be. But in the dim light, with the stomach churning music still playing in the background, I saw a bit of glitter on his bottom lip. He’d just ravaged a girl’s mouth minutes ago. I didn’t