Briar Prescott

He’s annoyingly perfect and perfectly annoying. And I’m extremely aware of his judgmental presence next to me.

“Yeah, well, I can kind of admit that the whole thing is partially my fault. Mainly his, but I did have a hand in leaving the impression that we might be… seeing. Each other.”
“You might want to practice saying that out loud a few times,” Blake suggests. “The gagging doesn’t exactly scream eternal love.”
“Aww. Never given a proper blowjob?”

“I’ll be fine. I can act like I like him for a few days. How hard can it be?”
“No offense, but I don’t think you’re that good of an actor.”
I flip him off again.
I am that good of an actor. My whole life is an act.

Even as a tree and a bird, we’ll still be the same. Never the twain shall meet.”
Somehow, it doesn’t sound quite as appealing as I would’ve figured it would.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” Quinn says.
“I would never. Thinking causes wrinkles. It’s why I avoid it at all costs.”

That all-knowing look of his really just invites shutting down with violence… Or kissing. I could violently kiss his face off.

In my head, I’m trying to catalog this moment. Make it make sense.
He kisses me like he was made to do it.
That’s all I have.
Because Quinn’s tongue slides over my lower lip, and then my tongue brushes his, and common sense loses the battle.

“I want to get to know you,” he says.
This is hands down the unsexiest thing anybody has ever said to me.

I watch him approach me. Messy hair. Shorts. A T-shirt with a large arrow in front that points downward and declares, “My eyes are down here.”
Wanting him makes so very little sense.
And still, I do.

“I’m not going to bed,” he grumbles. “I’ve got stuff to do. I have an afternoon class in an hour.”
I nod. “That’s a great idea. I bet not a lot of people have seen a dead body in the water, so it’ll be a real teaching moment. And it’ll be memorable. Real life examples tend to be.”
The scowl deepens. “My lessons are memorable. Even without corpses.”
“That’s one way to advertise yourself.”