“No, notamind reader. Justyourmind reader.”
“I could’ve handled him.”
“And I did handle him.”
Something warms in my chest at that. That he actually went out of his way to help me. But I can’t really negate the fact that so far he’s been an asshole to me. So I exhale, less angrily though, before saying, “Okay, now can you let me go, please?”
He flicks his eyes over my face, and even though it’s dark I hate that he’s looking at me so closely. Looking at all my frecklesand flaws. I hate that even though I want him to not look at me, I also don’t want him to look away.
“He was old enough to be your dad,” he says then.
I frown. “What, who?
“Your fuckface of a date.”
“What? He wasn’t?—”
“But I guess that’s your thing,” he goes on. “Going for the older guys. No judgement, but it screams of daddy issues.”
At this, my anger spikes once again and my palms itch to smack him across his arrogant, condescending face. But I settle on scathing words. “First, my dad is MIA, okay? I haven’t seen him since I was five years old. Second, it’s absolutely none of your business who I choose to date. Third, he wasyourage. In fact, he was a little younger than you. And from what I recall, you could be my big brother, not my daddy. So back off.”
There are a lot of things I was expecting him to take away from this. But I never thought he’d focus on this one thing when he says, his gaze oddly penetrating, “You haven’t seen your dad since you were five.”
I blink. “What?”
His frown is thick. “Is that because he was a piece of shit who left you?”
Shit, I should’ve known. That of all the things I said, this is what he’d latch on to. And I should’ve known that if he did, I would want to tell him everything. About my father, his father. How mine left us and how ever since his came into our lives, I haven’t felt safe.
But I can’t, so I do what I should to throw him off the scent. “My dad is none of your business, like your family is none of mine. You’re the last person I’d ever talk to about him. So why don’t you back off and let me go? Because I don’t think your fiancée is going to like you detaining another girl here against her will.”
Because he’s still engaged, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t he be? From what I’ve read and heard, they’re close to setting a date too. That’s what makes everything I did so twisted. Playing games with him, trying to make him feel jealous.
Something flashes through his eyes, somehow both bright and dark, and I know I’m in for it. I baited him and now he’s going to bite back.
“Was wondering when you’d bring her up,” he murmurs.
I flinch. “Look, I was just trying to?—”
“My advice is chamomile tea,” he keeps murmuring.
“What?”
“To help you sleep at night.”
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t want you lying awake in your bed wondering what I may be doing in mine.” He lowers his voice to add, “With my fiancée.”
I blush. “You know what, just get away from me.”
I even push at him but instead of budging, he comes closer.
He already was plenty close before. But now I breathe him in. We’re breathing each other’s air. And are those strawberries I smell? Sweet and tart. Like he’s been binge-eating that fruit for days, for years.
And oh my God, I think he’s staring at my lips. I think he just licked his own lips while staring at mine. It makes me tip my head further back. Andthatmakes him dip his further down. Our faces are aligned now and a thought flashes through my head: he’s going to kiss me.
He is, isn’t he?
