“I. . .Of course I’m happy to be home,” I start, though my voice wavers from the lack of a single ounce of confidence. “I missed my grandpa a lot, and my aunt too. I thought it would be cool to visit them for a while. And there’s always something special about coming back to that place where you spent your childhood.”
“Nicely played, Mila,” Blake says, pressing his lips together. “But you’re lying.”
“Excuse me?” I blink at him, my tone sharpening with indignation.
“You’re lying,” he repeats. “You aren’t here by choice. You said so at church.”
Damn, I forgot about that. It was such a minor thing, simply saying I’m here for as long as I “have” to be, instead of “want” to be. I knew he’d picked up on my careless word choice at the time. I didn’t realize it would have alerted him that there’s more to my story, but clearly he’s been waiting for the opportunity to dig deeper.
“Okay. So what if I’m not here because I want to be?” I snap back defensively. “What does it matter to you?”
Blake narrows his eyes at me, either surprised by my abrupt retaliation or the fact that I haven’t bothered to deny his claim that I’m lying. He studies me with what I think is fascination, but I have no idea why he thinks I’m so interesting. “I think you’re here for a very specific reason, and I’ll hedge a bet that it isn’t a particularly positive one.”
“Hey, Sherlock. Stop sticking your nose into my business,” I say, teeth gritted. I fold my arms and angle away from the table, locking my eyes on the band instead. My face is blazing and my heartbeat thumps in my ears; there’s a pressure building up inside my head that’s so intense the band goes out of focus.
But Blake keeps on pushing. Over the sound of the music, I hear him say, “You might think you’re super important just because the world knows who your dad is, but trust me, no one around here actually cares that much. So how about you be normal and just tell me why you’re really here.”
“Super important?” I whip my head back around, stunned. “I don’t think that!”
“Then why freak out when I told people who you are? Why be so secretive and defensive?”
He’s waiting for an answer, fully aware that he’s got me cornered. He presses his lips together and cocks a brow. I’m so furious I could smack him. How dare he push me on this? He doesn’t know a single thing about me. Arms still crossed, my hands balled into fists, I glare at him across the table.
“Because I’m under a lot of pressure, okay?” I finally respond. “I’m trying to do the best I can in a bad situation, andyouaren’t making it easy.”
“So, you admit you’re in a bad situation?” Blake says smugly, knowing yet again he’s got me tripping over my words.
“Okay, I’m done talking.”
Suddenly, someone clears their throat next to us, but even that isn’t enough to pull Blake and me out of our stare-off. Neither one of us wants to crack first. Blake’s gaze is challenging, and I know mine is dark and threatening.
That someone clears their throat again. “It’s after eight, folks,” the voice of the bouncer says. “Can I see some ID?”
“Don’t worry,” I mutter churlishly, grabbing my purse and sliding off the bar stool. “We were just leaving.”
Eye contact broken.
I want out of here, away from Blake and his nosy interrogation. I brush rudely past the bouncer and storm across the bar without even bothering to check over my shoulder if Blake is following or not.
Lesson learned: If a guy is such a jerk the first time you meet him that you end up in tears from his actions, neverevergive him the chance to redeem himself. What was I even thinking, agreeing to come here with him in the first place?
I rush down the stairwell two steps at a time to the first floor. It’s gotten busier since we arrived an hour ago and there’s such a dense horde of people dancing in front of the stage that I have to barge my way through, but I finally make it outside into the night. The entrance is chaotic with people coming and going, so I disappear around the corner and find a quieter spot to steady myself. I press my hand to the wall of Honky Tonk Central, squeeze my eyes shut, and suck in a breath of warm, humid air.
“I’m guessing those great drama skills are in your genes?”
My eyes flash back open to find Blake standing a few feet in front of me, shoulder resting against the wall, hands in his pockets. The electric blue of the neonHonky Tonk Centralsign shines in his glowering eyes.
“Because that was kind of dramatic to storm out like that,” he finishes. “Not to mention damn rude.”
“Rude?I’mrude?! Just leave me alone,” I spit, barging my shoulder into his as I set off along Broadway. There’s nowhere to go besides back to his truck and although getting in a car with him is the last thing I want to endure right now, I have no other choice. It’s either get a ride home from Blake, or find a cab to take me back to Fairview since there isn’t a direct bus service.
I hear Blake’s footsteps behind me, his pace fast to keep up with my quick cadence. “Mila. Mila, c’mon,” he tries. “Mila,wait.”
Damn, that boy is persistent. I stop short and spin around, and he’s following so close that he collides straight into me. We both stumble, and he grasps my wrists, steadying us both. Aggressively, I snatch my hands from him, but don’t turn away. I realize his body is mere inches from mine, our chests almost touching. Neither of us steps back, and I stare up into his eyes, giving him the chance to prove that it’s worth waiting to hear what he’s got to say.
“Hey, come on,” he says, releasing all of the air in his lungs. “Don’t be like that. I’m honestly not trying to upset you.” Up close, his brown eyes are scattered with lighter flecks, almost like dots of caramel. “I’m just trying to figure you out.” He gazes up for a moment, as if searching for words. “You know, because I’m probably the only person around here who might understand you.”
I tilt my chin, drawing my face up even closer to his. “Why?” I demand, still fuming. “You think you understand a single thing about my life just because you’re the mayor’s dumbass son?”
