Songs for this chapter are:

Waiting Game - Banks

Andrew Belle- In My Veins

Amber Run- I Found Love

...

Nora's POV.

I know that if I nod, all bets are off. Landon will press his mouth to mine and there will be no more talking. That can't happen. Not that I don't want it to, because boy, do I.

"Skip," I say into his mouth. His eyes drop, ever so slightly, and I immediately explain.

I hate the look touching his eyes. I saw it in Scarsdale and when I left outside of Juliette. Sadness should never touch Landon, not him.

"I'm skipping the question. If I don't, we will never talk like this," I tell him. Each word burns like bleach down my throat. I want his hands on me more than I would ever be stupid enough to admit.

I kept on telling myself to keep my distance from this boy.

He's too young for you, Nora.

Too young.

I look at the dark stubble on his chin. He was freshly shaven yesterday. I can't believe that's something I actually pay attention to, but I can't help but notice. The hair grows thicker around his chin. He doesn't look so young now, standing in front of me with his eyes on me. His eyes aren't as young as his body. There's something older, wiser, inside of them. I don't know what it was, but something hurt him deeper than just a break-up with Dakota.

"You're skipping the question?" His lips turn up forming a shy smile and his arms close tighter around me. He's still gripping the edge of the counter, but the safe space between us is getting smaller and smaller.

I nod and his smile grows. Barely moving, he shakes his head, just slightly.

My god, he's convincing.

And too nice.

He's too nice for you, Nora.

Way, way, way too nice.

Fuck, I've turned into that woman who I always thought I despised. I hate women like that, they are the literal worst.

This is how that woman works,

Phase One: She sits around with her closest friends, drinking wine in their pajamas. "I've dated too many assholes. Why are all men assholes?" She cries into her cheap moscato. "No more assholes for me," she promises, and raises her coffee mug full of wine.

Phase Two: She shows up to coffee with her friends. She suddenly likes bitter coffee because her new beau does and he's nice and smart and she's never dating an asshole again. "He's so sweet." She tells her friends. And she's right, you won't find him at a bar on a Friday night, or nursing a hangover on Saturday morning. You'll find him walking the aisles of Anthroplogy, holding her coffee while she tries on everything in the store.

Phase Three: She sits with her friends at a nightclub, dressed in a new black dress and has actually curled her hair for the first time in a month. She's wearing full makeup, not for her nice guy, not even for herself. "I'm kinda not sure about him anymore. He's kind of boring," she will complain and share a smile with a hot guy in the crowd.

Phase Four: (last and final phase)

She sits on her couch, watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. Her friends sit around her with wine in their hands. "Men are such assholes," she says, because the hot guy from the club cheated on her and now she's back to Phase One.

I am that woman right now.

"I don't think that's very fair," Landon's mouth touches my ear and I shiver. My god, this man.

This man is Tessa's best friend.

I have to remind myself of this. This is one of the thousand reasons I have to end this mess between us now. He's her best, best, best friend in the world and if I fuck that up, I would never forgive myself.

Tessa has dealt with enough this year between Hardin ruining her life and not getting into NYU yet. She lost her dad and the love of her life and I've seen the way she leans on Landon for support and if I take Tessa's rock away, I wouldn't deserve him anyway.

"Nothing in life is fair," I say and bend my knees and duck out of his cage.

I can't think clear enough to be anything close to productive when Landon's this close to me. Every time I step into the elevator in this building I tell myself, keep it together. Don't stare too long, don't ask Tessa too many questions about him.

I knew I had a problem when every single time I went to their apartment, I hoped he was inside. The flood of disappointment I felt when he wasn't there scares the shit out of me, and still does.

"How do you like NYU? Are you excited for your mom to have little Abby? Where would you go if you could fly anywhere, right now?" I ask him in a feeble attempt to change the course of the conversation before I end up on my knees in this kitchen.

He glares at me and I take an extra step away from him. "I like it just fine. Yes, I am. Spain, to go to a Real Madrid game."

Landon is clearly not amused by my bland questions and I'm clearly not doing a good job at keeping things platonic. Landon walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a blue Gatorade. I make a face at it and he smiles at me.

He twists the top open and continues to stare at me. He's watching me intently and I can tell he's concocting something. "There's a bonus round to my game," he informs me.

Oh, sure there is.

"Is there?" I try not to smile at him, but I can't fight it. "Do tell."

He leans his back against the counter and I keep a safe space between us. Five feet, that's safe enough.

From five feet away, I can't see how he looks at me. I can't stare at the masculine curve of his broad shoulders. I can't obsess over his strong hands and thick fingers. If I keep space from him, he won't be able to tell that I'm itching to touch him.

It's more than an itch, really. Itching can be cured from scratching and my need for him doesn't have such a simple solution. The feelings l have for Landon will have to be burned from my body to be calmed. A thousand yards of bandages will be needed to dress my wounds.

Landon takes a long drink before he answers. He sits the bottle down on the countertop and faces me. His kitchen feels so damn small.

"Okay, so," he begins. "It goes like this. You have to answer one of your skipped questions, or you lose."

"Hmm," I consider this. Lose what, exactly?

I look at Landon. The kind, caring, sexy, stained t-shirt wearing guy who has crept his way into me, and I try to remember which questions I skipped. I skipped a few about my last relationship, but that was for Landon's own good.

I'm lying. It was mostly for my own good, but a little for him, too. I don't want him to know that side of me.

I also skipped the question about my feelings for him. I really, really shouldn't answer that question.

"You only skipped one question," I point out. He nods, knowing damn well that this "bonus round" was designed to work in his favor.

"I know." He admits with a smirk. He lifts his drink to his mouth again.

I have to consider that I want him to get to know me. I want him to feel like I'm not going to run if he asks the wrong question at the wrong time. But honestly, I probably would. It would be easier and for once in my life, I would like to take the easy way out of something. We are playing a dangerous game here, and I'm not ready to lose.

"I'll answer one." I tell him.

He nods. "I get to choose which one."

"Don't be greedy," I counter.

He smirks again and my first instinct is to moan. My body is screaming for him and I can picture him perfectly, on top of me, pushing into me, that stupid smirk still on his innocent face.

"Rules are rules, young lady."

His words make my brain fuzzy. His smile is bigger now, braver. It's fascinating the way he shifts from man to teenager, commanding the room one second to being submissive the next.

He steps toward me, shedding the teenage boy from him, and reaches for my hand. I let him take it. I'm mesmerized by him.

I straighten my back as he approaches me. His hands are cold when they wrap around mine. I love how he makes me feel so small, even though I'm close to his height. My height used to be such an insecurity of mine. I remember when my Abuelita told me that men loved women they could put in their pockets. She was a tiny woman herself, hence why we called her Abuelita. Every woman on my mother's side of the family is tiny, small frame, small hips, small feet. But, not me.

At five-foot-seven, I'm taller than my mother and her mother. I'm taller than Staussey, and my big hips were a topic of many family dinners. Tale has it that I get my frame from my mother's Abuela. She was said to have to make her own pants because her back side was just that big.

"Why are you so quiet now?" Landon asks. He has me cornered again, but has let go of my hand. I can touch him, just one little touch won't hurt.

I lift my hand to his face and caress the curve of his cheek. His cheekbones are prominent and sometimes he looks like a frat boy. Landon has the looks of an asshole with the heart of a puppy.

I tell him that he needs to answer the question first. I want to know how often he thinks of taking me. I run my finger over his pink lips, tracing the soft shape of them. The curve of his nose is slight and his eyes close under my touch.

"How often do you think about fucking me?" I repeat the question he skipped. His eyes flutter under the lid, but he keeps them closed.

"Is it as often as I think about you?" My words are as audible as a sigh, but I know he can hear them. I continue to touch him, to admire the sharp line of his jaw. "Because, I think about you fucking me in so many ways. I touch myself while thinking about you and I don't care to admit that," I lean closer to him and his chest rises and falls.

The tension in this room is thick enough to choke us both.

"Do you do the same, Landon? Do you think about how it would feel? I do," I cup his face in my hands and his eyes open halfway.

Under hooded eyes, his body calls back to me. He shifts his legs and pushes one thigh between mine. He lifts his leg up, so his thigh is between my legs. The ache in my stomach tightens.

"I do," he admits, a hint of rasp coats his low voice. "I think about you all the time. The last time," he looks toward the kitchen table and back to my face and rests his eyes on my mouth. He's so close that I can smell the sweetness of his drink on his tongue.

"The last time was-" I trail off. I feel drowsy under him.

Landon's eyes open further and his hands grab my hips. His mouth is on mine before I can push through the fog in my brain. 

(Author's note: I'm updating again in about two hours. Also, this book is #48 in Romance!!!! Thank you for reading and voting and commenting, I love love love you guys. I love reading your comments, it's one of my favorite things about wiring on Wattpad. I'll be back in a little bit ;)