Oh, Dakota.

Chapter Seven.

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Elijah Astor

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Stacey Dugan smiled at me.

Her ruby lips pulled back perfectly, and stretched over her face. Her amber eyes were connected with mine from the love seat she sat on across the room, curled up against Ryan’s side. His fingers played with the red waves of her hair, but she wasn’t looking at him.

No, Stacey Dugan was looking at me. And she was smiling. Her lips lessened, but were still curved at the edges, almost teasingly as though she was trying to tell me something.

I was trying to figure out what this smile meant, but before I had the chance, Stacey’s attention moved back to Ryan as he nuzzled behind her ear.

Gross. Didn’t he know he had company? It was silent in his living room, and I shuffled in my seat uncomfortably. My knee knocked into Dakota’s, and she sneered, moving away.

“Watch it.” She grumbled. She slouches against the couch, her top lip curved up in disgust as her eyes glued to her best friend and crush. Her eyes rolled back, and she snapped her head away from them. “Disgusting.” She mumbled under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Stacey asked, and both our eyes moved over to her. She pulled slightly away from Ryan, and had her gaze fixated on Dakota.

Dakota shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong.” But her voice was tense.

Stacey rolled her eyes. “Stacey, I know you like an open book.” Stacey’s gaze ventured from Dakota to me then back to Dakota. “Are you two fighting? Is it about earlier?”

Dakota sat up straighter, and her side pressed into my arm. She shook her head quickly, her hair washing over her like a shawl. She put her hands up in front of her. “No, we’re not fighting!”

Stacey’s bottom lip jutted out in a cute pout. She seemed almost disappointed that we weren’t fighting. “Are you sure?”

Dakota’s lips strained in a pained smile. Her hand slowly inched out, and rested on my thigh. “We’re defiantly not fighting, Stacey, I’m sure.”

Stacey’s thin brow plucked up, and she leaned forward, letting Ryan’s arm slip off of her shoulders. She examined us closely, her stance set in concentration. “How about you, Elijah? Are you sure?”

My mouth opened to respond, but I didn’t have the chance, for Dakota’s hand began to slide up my thigh. My mouth snapped shut and my eyes instantly zeroed on Dakota’s hand. The warmth of her skin seeped right through the fabric of my jeans, and her hand was moving higher. My leg muscles were rigid, and I was suddenly having a very hard time remembering where I was, or even who I was as Dakota’s slim fingers dipped against the inner side of my thigh.