“Fuck.” He rolls his eyes to the heavens. “I knew it.”
“He isn’t,” I protest.
Zander doesn’t listen. “I told you to stay away from him.”
“He was a friend!”
“Obviously, he wasn’t!”
Passersby are beginning to stare. “Don’t make a scene.”
“A scene? Really?” Zander’s blue eyes flash. “He took youaway from me!”
I’m frozen to the spot, heart pounding and a sick feeling in my stomach. “You don’t own me.” They’re soft words on an exhale but Zander hears them, and he’s pissed. He backs me into the hall and when it proves too crowded, he marches me into a vacant alcove.
“Why did you come tonight?” he demands.
“Because you asked me to. Asfriends.”
“Oh please. We both know I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, I did.” At least I did when I accepted the invitation. Never mind that all the alcohol has made me forget that.
“Then why have you been all over me all night?”
Guilt makes me defiant. “Why not?”
“I’m not your fuck buddy.” He looms over me, both hands on the wall on each side of my head. “Especially after you fucked somebody else.”
“Me? What about you and Lara? Did you forget about that?” I shove against his chest, but he barely moves.
“Ha! So youdidfuck him?”
I don’t like the way Zander’s color is rising, but I raise my chin and stand my ground. “Might I remind you, we—” I point to each of us in turn, “aren’t together anymore.”
He scoffs. “Please. Everybody knows you’re still mine. Everybody except him.” It’s not the way he spits the wordhimthat has me recoiling, it’s his indignation, so potent it boils the blood in my veins.
I shove off the wall and push my way out from underneath his arm. Without looking back, I stomp down the hall, not even sure where I’m heading.
“Betts!” He runs after me. “Stop.”
I do no such thing.
He seizes me around the middle, jerking me to a halt. “Stop. Please.” He spins me around to face him. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m a jealous asshole. I’m possessive as fuck. I know!” It’s part confession-part plea.
“Do you even care about me? Or do you just want to own me?”
He blinks those pretty aquamarine eyes, desperate and confused. “I love you.”
“Do you?” I doubt he knows what love is.
“Yes! Betts, you’re all I can think about. I’ve been so fucking depressed, just ask Braden. It’s like…it’s like…I’m sick or something, and I can’t get better. Not until you come back.”
“So depressed you slept with Lara?” There isn’t much snark behind my jab. Not when his regret is like a blanket over my shoulders, smothering my fire.
“Yes,” he admits. “That depressed. I can’t stand her, you know that, but I was drunk and miserable and missing you so bad.” He grips my bare shoulders. “Betts, babe, please. I even still have your cooler. And your shampoo.” He stoops and chases my eyes. “And that old Panthers tee shirt you always wear. They’re all just sitting there, waiting for you to come back.”
Tears blur my vision. I miss my cooler and that stupid t-shirt. I just don’t understand why.
