The Artist & The Q.B.

Ch. 14

    After I get over the shock of what he just said about doing things to me in my bed, I elbow him. "You can't say things like that."

He shrugs in response, so I shrug back and roll my eyes. "Thats the most annoying thing about you. The shrugs." I tell him, watching him from the corner of my eye.

"You like me, admit it." He demands, taking my hand in his and playing with my fingers.

I tug at my hand, but he refuses to release it. "I do like you. I don't have a problem admitting that."

"You want to be with me, you're fighting it." He comments. "Why do you do that?"

"Again, you are only stating facts, that I myself have admitted to." I remind him, ignoring his question regarding, why.

My response seems to garner more of his attention. "You've never admitted that. At least not directly."

I nod. "Fair enough. Maybe I don't want you to take advantage of the fact that I seem to be a weak little were you're concerned." I reply, honestly. I watch his eyebrow raise. "Lower that damn eyebrow, Truex." I warn.

He gloats without saying a word.

"You haven't changed my mind on this relationship business. All you did was confuse me. I should've never let you touch me, then none of this would've happened. You do know you gave me my first you know...unicorn, in a crowed restaurant with your mom and Ed at the table. Not a memory I particularly want to hold on to." I complain.

He sits up his eyes on mine completely serious, trying to figure out if I'm lying or not. "Really?"

"Yep and as of right now I'm erasing it from my mind." I state, strongly.

"That was your first time?" He asks, amazed.

"What was my first time?" I question, cheekily.

"At the restaurant." He states, clearly happy with himself.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I reply, smugly but it's doesn't wipe the smile off his face.

"What about in the room?" He questions, wanting to know more about what I have and haven't done.

"Well, that would've been the second time. You do know how to count right?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"Am I the first guy to go down on you?" He questions, sounding hopeful.

"That's private." I reply.

"Bullshit. Tell me." He demands.

"No."

"No, I'm not the first? Or, no. You won't tell me?" He looks as if he already knows the answer.

"You're just going to get a big head about it." I argue.

"So, I am?" He asks, looking far too intense.

I groan. "Yes, Truex. You're the first to travel down-under. Happy?"

He nods. "Extremely."

We're quiet for a little while, he's probably plotting my demise. "Why don't you hang out with Easton more? I've never met him, but he said you're good friends." I ask, curiously.

"He goes back to Texas on the off season. That's where he's from." He explains.

"Oh, that's too bad. Is he seeing anyone?" I ask, innocently.

He growls, "Why?"

"I think him and Becca would hit it off. She has a thing for large sporty guys." I reply, looking directly at him.

"So do you." He points out, smugly.

"I do not. You're the exception, not the norm." I point out.

"Bunny, you don't even know what you like, don't worry I'll show you."

"Bunny?" I ask, too focused on the name to absorb all the rest that was said.

"Little bunny always trying to scurry away."

"What does that make you then?"

"The hunter." He replies, smugly.

"So, you get to be a hunter and I have to be a rabbit?"

"Bunny." He corrects.

"Same damn thing." I argue. "I refuse to be a bunny."

"Quit running then. Be brave." He says, kissing the back of my hand. I feel the butterflies in my stomach and instantly hate it. I don't like my response to him.

I don't like that I'm the rabbit, that I have to out run him or I'll be caught. However, the more I think about it the more it makes perfect sense. I look up at him knowing I shouldn't.

"What are you planning on doing with me?" I question, without thinking.

"Keep you." He replies, pulling me towards him and laying me against his chest. I can't relax against him, those words make my feet want to move far and fast. "You're in car, we're doing 75. You can't exactly go anywhere." He states, sensing my discomfort. I feel his hand at my lower back brushing back and forth, getting lower and lower.

"What are you doing?"

"Exploring."

"My ass crack?" I ask, confused.

He chuckles, "Yes, I'm trying to determine if you're wearing underwear or not."

"I'm not."

"You just ruined my fun." He replies, pinching my butt making me yelp and jump.