I shrugged. “Not much. Older bands. Tool. Soundgarden is pretty good, I guess. You?”
“All kinds. From all over the world.” She pulled out her phone. “Check this out. His name is Ritviz and he’s from India. He’s an EDM artist.”
“EDM?”
“Electronic Dance Music. Listen.”
Shiloh gave me one of her earbuds and put the other in her ear. A second later, I was listening to Indian EDM music in a Thai restaurant. Shiloh, even in her seat, danced to the electronic beats and the lyrics that were more rapped than sung.
“You know what he’s saying?”
“No clue,” she said, her smile radiant. “But it’s not about that. It’s about how it makes you feel.”
I liked the music okay, but it was Shiloh who made me feel fucking everything. I watched her move, closing her eyes, getting lost right there at the table.
She grinned. “Good, right?”
Fucking incredible.
“You like dancing?” I blurted like a jackass. “I mean…I see you at Central a lot, listening to music, but you didn’t go to Homecoming.”
She shot me a wry smile. “I was out getting barbecue with you, if you recall.”
As if I could forget.
“I love dancing,” she continued. “I just don’t like school dances. The social scene in general doesn’t interest me. Not like I’m above it but more like I’m running parallel on a totally different vibe, trying to get through it. Like I want my childhood to be over with.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because I feel like, if I’m an adult with my own business, then what my mother thinks of me becomes irrelevant. I won’t be a kid anymore, needing her.” She waved a hand. “I know it doesn’t work that way, but it’s just something I do. To cope.”
I nodded.
Shiloh rested her chin in her hand, watching me. “We’re not doing a very good job of sticking to the basics. Quick, ask me something easy.”
“Uh…what’s your favorite movie?”
“Good one. I should say something deep and profound to impress you like The Color Purple or Citizen Kane, but I love Coming to America.” She chuckled. “Just thinking about it makes me happy. Yours?”
“Citizen Kane.”
Shiloh burst out laughing and chucked her napkin at me. “But for real.”
“I don’t know… My mom and I used to watch The Wizard of Oz, so I’ll say that.”
“I love that,” Shiloh said softly.
And so did I—being able to talk about my mother’s life instead of how she died.
“My turn,” Shiloh said. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Seriously?”
She arched a brow at me.
“Black. Yours?”
“Yellow.” Shiloh smiled, and she was positively fucking luminous. “Look at us. We are slaying the basics. Okay, one more. If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”
“Nowhere.”
Shiloh frowned. “Oh, come on, don’t quit on me now. We were doing so well…”
“There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you.”
The words landed between us, stark and naked, and I inwardly cursed.
Too much. It’s too much.
Shiloh’s smile slipped, and her lips parted in a way I was coming to know meant I’d said or done something that stole her breath.
“Ronan Wentz,” she murmured and turned to look out the window. “I’m in more trouble than I thought.”
The food arrived and I ate a pile of noodles that scorched my mouth but didn’t come close to filling me up. I insisted on paying the bill, and we left. Out on the sidewalk, Shiloh smirked at me.
“What?”
“That wasn’t enough food for you, was it?”
“Not remotely.”
She laughed and tucked her arm in mine. “Come on. There’s a Mountain Mike’s pizza up ahead. Let’s get you a slice or two.”
I stopped her before she could take a step and kissed her. And I was right; Shiloh tasted sweet and soft from the milk tea. Her tongue slid coolly against mine and then she pulled back, breathless.
“Ronan, you taste like fire.” Her arms ringed my neck and the kiss deepened, became the kind that wanted to lead to more.
“I don’t need pizza,” I said when we came up for air.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Thank God.”
Chapter Twenty-One
We walked in silence back to the car. The air between us buzzed like electrical lines; I could still taste Ronan on my lips.
My heart was pounding as my car came into view. Because tonight was different. I’d been fighting to keep Ronan at arm’s length and failing at every turn. He smashed down my walls, and in turn, trusted me enough to tell me about his own brutal childhood. Each moment spent with him drew us closer together, like the tide that stopped for nothing and no one.
Therefore, sleeping with him is a bad idea.
But when I stripped it all away, all that remained was that I wanted him in every way.
We climbed into my car and I sat facing forward, my heart clanging madly in my chest.
“Do you want to go home?”
“No,” he said, his voice rough. “Do you?”
I shook my head. “There’s a really pretty lookout not far from here. Great views. Want to check it out?”
“Yeah, I do,” Ronan said, not even bothering to hide his intentions; they rumbled through his words, slipping under my skin and raising goosebumps.
Somehow, I managed to drive the car without getting us in an accident, every part of me humming and attuned to Ronan beside me. I pulled onto the overlook that was off the main road and killed the headlights. The valley unrolled a dark carpet of forest under a half moon and a sky full of stars.
We enjoyed the view for all of ten seconds and then reached for each other, crashing together hard. We kissed in heated, desperate need, our hands greedy. But after the third time I whacked my elbow on the steering wheel, I pulled away.
“Back seat,” I said, hearing my own intention in my voice and not caring. I could have sex with Ronan in a car, I reasoned. That didn’t mean we were serious. It meant we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, that’s all. That was allowed.
We climbed out of the front and into the back, where I lay along the bench seat behind the driver’s side, pulling him down with me.
“Wait.” Ronan shook out of his fleece-lined denim jacket and tucked it behind my head like a pillow.
Dammit.
He was too good. Too considerate, while I was trying to keep this meaningless car sex. I gripped his T-shirt and kissed him roughly. He lay over me again, his body wondrously heavy and hard. His hand slid under my shirt, then down, along my left thigh, pushing my skirt up.
“You want to stop, we stop,” he said, his voice tight.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to stop.”
The fire of his kiss nearly undid me. When Ronan had permission, he took it. He was going to take me, and I was more than ready to surrender. To give him whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like me; this loss of control felt wild and reckless and exactly what I wanted.