“Put your finger here,” he instructed.

Again, he reached down and touched my fingers as he put them in position. His hands were rough and warm. And even though I’d had the initial jerk, the more he touched my fingers, the less uncomfortable it became. This was a revelation for me, since from the time my dad started coming in my room, I’d rarely let anyone but my mom and Sydney touch me.

“Now, strum it,” he said.

I did and it sounded so much better.

He reached down again and rearranged my fingers against the strings. I felt a soft pull in my lower stomach as he softly moved my index finger and pressed it down.

“Again.” He was closer now and still I wasn’t bothered by his closeness.

I ran my thumb across the strings again, and again it sounded good. This continued, him moving my fingers and telling me to strum the strings until finally I could hear the song I was playing. It was the same song he’d been playing when I walked in. Except my version was a slower, crappier version.

“I know this song,” I said. “What is it?”

Finally, he grinned down at me and shifted his bangs again. His lip piercing captured my attention and I had to stop myself from looking at his mouth. He must have caught me looking because his grin got bigger. He leaned in closer; his breath shifted the hair around my ear.

“Patience.” The way he said my name sent a wave of heat down my spine. “By Guns and Roses… It’s your anthem.”

I felt my cheeks heat up.

“You were playing it when I came in,” I said as I fiddled with the guitar again. Anything I could do to keep my eyes away from his.

It was starting to make me uncomfortable how comfortable I was with him. He was a stranger for crying out loud and a mean one at that. I should be deathly afraid of this dude, but instead, I felt safe around him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d saved me twice now or maybe we had some freaky cosmic connection. All I knew was being around him was nice. I didn’t have to put up any fronts or play the governor’s daughter. I didn’t have to pretend to give a shit about fashion or be the best soccer player on the field. I could just sit and be me. I didn’t have to pretend to be the Patience that everyone else thought I was because he didn’t give a shit either way.

“I was.” His eyes were darker.

He really knew how to pull off that dark and dangerous look.

“Do you like playing that song?” I asked casually as I handed him the guitar.

He picked at the strings a bit and then shrugged. “Not really.”

“Then why were you?” I adjusted my tank top and sat back in my chair.

He played a little tune and shot me with another sexy grin.

“It reminds me of you.”

Nine

Zeke

The minute the words came out of my mouth I regretted them. The sweet, pink blush that covered her cheeks was the main reason. The other reason was because it sounded like something a pussy whipped punk would say. I completely ignored the fact that it was true. I was playing that song while waiting for her to show up. No one needed to know I was actually kind of looking forward to our little words war. It was fun teasing her and getting under her skin. It kept me from thinking about the fact that I wanted to get under her panties even more.

Thankfully, she didn’t respond or make me explain. Because of that, I instantly liked her more. Most women would have questioned and beat that confession to death, not Patience. She was much too good for that. Instead, she smiled back at me and then jumped up and went to play ball with the boys. Again, I enjoyed the gym shorts view for the rest of my hour.

Afterward, when I saw her sitting on the sidewalk, I just pulled up and she opened the passenger-side door and got in. I didn’t have to ask and she didn’t pretend like she didn’t need a ride. I’m not sure why I did it. My gas hand was low and I didn’t have two dimes to rub together, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

The drive to her house was a quiet one and again, I appreciated the fact that she was so different from most girls. Most girls couldn’t sit and enjoy a peaceful ride with just the radio on low. Most girls felt the need to pollute the silence with overdramatic nonsense. Not Patience. She stared out the window and every now and again I’d catch her nodding her head to the music and smile. She had a beautiful smile, one chock-full of honesty and genuine sweetness. I liked to see her smile.

Once we got closer to her house, that smile slipped from her lips.

“You can let me out here,” she said as she leaned up like she was ready to dart from my car.