Elliot glowered at me, but I ignored him as best I could. It wasn’t easy since we were currently facing each other in the middle of a moonlit path and staring romantically into each other’s eyes. Well, it was more like glaring romantically into each other’s eyes, really.
“Look,” I whispered harshly. “If you could just dial down the asshole setting, that would be super.”
His eyebrows shot up briefly then he frowned at me. “You know what? I don’t like you much, either. Why’d you pick such a shitty place?”
“I picked it, because secluded spots in the woods are where the magic usually happens. But trust me, a dreamy walk with you in the moonlight is so not how I’d like to be spending my evening.”
He slid an arm around my back and pulled me against him–far closer than I cared to be–but I didn’t pull away. Glancing beyond my shoulder, he scanned the tree line behind me. “Tell me about it. It’s the playoffs.”
I rolled my eyes and slid my hands to his shoulders. They were nice shoulders, too. Firm and broad…if only they didn’t come with the douchecanoe personality attached.
“What? I like basketball.”
“Of course you do,” I muttered, peering into the shadows beyond his head.
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Cupping my face with his other hand, he tilted my head up so he could gaze into my face. At least, that’s the way it would look.
I tried to ignore the the pleasant sensation of his warm skin against mine, and instead, focused on an answer to his question. “It’s an overrated sport.”
I didn’t know if it was or not. But I was petty and childish enough to admit that if Elliot liked something, I’d automatically hate it. I couldn’t help it. Everything about him just pissed me off. Seriously, why couldn’t he have a personality to match his looks? Why did I have to suffer?
His eyes, which were an entirely too pretty shade of green, darted from side to side, then searched the trees behind me.
“Do you see something?” I asked.
“Not yet.” He moved closer as if to kiss me.
“No tongue this time.”
He paused and stared into my eyes with that ridiculously piercing gaze. “I thought the point was to make it look realistic.”
I adjusted the wooden stake hidden in the sleeve of my coat, and let it slide into my palm. “They’re vampires. Not theatre talent scouts.”
The bushes behind me rustled slightly, and Elliot brushed his lips across mine and whispered, “Show time.”
I can’t wait to see what everyone else has done with this picture. Click the names below to find out.