Tightrope

Hoping He'd Choke on Your Tongue?

And I want you to. And I want you to. And I want you to.

No matter how many times I said the words in my head, they did not sound any less stupid. It was indefensible, really. I couldn't claim that he'd kissed me, or that I'd been an unwilling participant. I hated Jace Hartley, and yet I'd asked—no, demanded—that he kiss me.

And oh, wow, kiss me he did.

If there was one thing Hartley was good at—being the bane of my existence and perpetual pain in my ass—it was that. I felt it through inch of my body, that kiss.

Some dark, dangerous part of me wanted to do it again. That same part asked me what could've happened—what I might've allowed to happen—if Knight wasn't so appalled by the selection of a fedora.

Like, yes, Knight, fedoras suck, but I also bought him Dora the Explorer underwear, so how was it a fedora that tipped him over the edge?

And, well, he was wearing it tipped over his forehead dramatically as he regarded Jace and I with the calculating gaze of a monocle (and most likely, fedora) wearing supervillain. He seemed just about ready to cackle.

"Hello, Hartley. I've heard much about you. Lena is rather obsessed," Knight said.

"Am not."

Jace still looked dazed and confused. It seemed he was going to stay that way for a while.

"She is," said Knight in a conspiratorial whisper, as if I wasn't right there and couldn't hear him with perfect clarity. The fedora was doing something to his personality, because he did all of this while twirling an imaginary moustache and flourishing his hands dramatically. "But I didn't know if it was in a genuine hatred way or in an I-want-to-jump-his-bones-but-I'm-in-denial way. I guess I got my answer."

I regretted the fedora.

Hartley remained confused. "Uh, roommate?" He made a less-than-subtle pass with his eyes around the room. "What, needed help with the rent?"

Knight shrugged. "It's more of a charity thing."

"Lena is charitable?"

"More like a spinster in need of a friend."

"Oh, that checks."

I glared at them both. "No, Knight was homeless and I kindly offered him a mattress in my closet. It's a long story."

"Your closet?" Hartley said. "What, didn't want to give up one of the spare bedrooms."

"Oh, no, I'm more... her secret mistress," Knight explained. "Smuggled in."

Hartley's brows furrowed. "So, your parents don't know?"

"They do not," I confirmed.

"She's scared they'll kick me out," Knight whispered conspiratorially. "And then she'll be a lonely spinster again."

"Not true!" I said in a sing-song voice. "I have friends."

"She's in denial about that too."

Hartley seemed greatly amused by Knight. Of course he was. "I place bets she will stay in denial," Hartley told him.

"Bad bet, I would not take that action. Because I know you're right," Knight said.

"Um, stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here," I demanded.

"Sorry," said Knight, though he did not sound particularly apologetic. "It's just that denial seems to be a state that you live in. Like, you told me that you didn't want to bang Jace Hartley, but it kind of seems like you want to bang Jace Hartley."