Free Tease by Sophie Jordan Page B

a job and raised me all on her own. She wouldn’t have made such sacrifices.
    “Aren’t you the good son?” The words came out scratchy and a little raw. I couldn’t help it. Thinking about my mother put me in a bitchy place.
    “So why don’t you take her calls? What’d she do? Cut your allowance?”
    “Ha.” I crossed my arms. “You really don’t know me.”
    “Well, now I’m intrigued. Tell me about life in your ivory tower, princess.”
    I inhaled through my nose, almost tempted to lay it all out there. Just so I could wipe that smirk from his face. But that lasted only half a second. In five years I hadn’t told a soul what happened. Why would I begin now?
    Why would I begin with him?
    “Why are you even still talking to me right now?” I snapped.
    “You’re the one who ran out here after me.”
    “And you’re still here. So why? You don’t like me.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Oh, that’s right. If you had a type, I would be it. What does that even mean?” I angled my head and uncrossed my arms, propping my hands on my hips. “I’m fuckable but not anyone you’d want longterm? That it?”
    He didn’t even flinch at my bald language. Nor did he rush to denials either. “You’re . . . interesting.”
    I laughed. “Is that what you call it? Maybe you’re just hard up, soldier boy? Fresh off the boat and—”
    “I wasn’t in the navy.” His voice got all flinty, but I kept going. Kept talking even when a part of me warned that I should just shut up.
    I shook my head. “Tomorrow you won’t even remember my name, my face—”
    He stepped closer, eyes scanning me. “Emerson Wingate. Dark hair with reddish highlights. Bright blue eyes.” His gaze dipped, roaming over me. “Hundred ten. Hundred fifteen pounds. Your hands . . .” He plucked one of my hands up, pressing his palm flush to mine. He considered our kissing palms, my hand so much smaller than his own. The tips of my fingers barely passed his middle knuckle.
    “Beautiful hands.” My chest tightened at his deep voice washing over me. “Slender. Fine-boned but strong. Like they play an instrument. Piano maybe?” His eyes locked with mine. A dark eyebrow arched in question.
    “I-I paint,” I admitted.
    He smiled as if he had just solved some kind of puzzle. “You paint,” he echoed and continued, marking characteristics like he was reading off a chart. “Skin smooth. Pale. A tight little body perfect for tying guys up in knots.”
    My eyes shot to his face and I yanked my hand away from his. I rubbed my palm against my thigh, still feeling his touch there. “Go to hell.”
    “Temperamental.” He gave me his half smile. “See? I’ll remember you.”
    And then he was gone.
    I stared after his retreating back, his figure dark against the mostly white landscape, broken up by only concrete and vehicles.
    I exhaled, unaware that I had been holding my breath. I told myself I was glad that he was leaving. Glad that I wouldn’t have to see him again.
    Turning, I headed back inside the house, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as if that might somehow make me feel less cold. And less empty.

 
    UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ....................................
    Chapter 5
    I was grateful when Monday rolled around just so I could distract myself with the routine of the week. There was no expectation of me going out. I didn’t have to work so hard to be the me that I had created ever since I started here at Dartford. Friday loomed ahead like a visit to the gyno. Something you didn’t want to do, but you knew you had to. If I didn’t party it up on the weekends, if I stayed in, then everyone would think something was wrong with me. That I was sick or depressed. And nothing was wrong with me. I worked hard to convince everyone—myself included—that nothing was wrong with me. I was happy. Really.
    My week ran its normal course. I still barely made it on time to class, slipping in