He took a step nearer. Just one. I dropped the wrench to the ground; it clattered loudly. I turned to him with a glare, feeling hunted and crowded, a pinched panic beginning to pound in my chest. "Just stay away!" I barked.
He drew back, blinking. There were tears in his eyes. Obvious ones, not just a dampness that might have been tears. He was definitelycrying. The bastard. "You're telling me there's no chance we'd ever be anything to each other?"
I took a breath. "No. How could we?"
"You find me so disgusting that—"
I nodded, feeling twisted up inside. I needed to be honest. I needed to get him away from me. But it was mean, what I was saying, and it hurt to say it.
He looked as though he'd absorbed a body blow. The little flinch made it worse.
I added quickly, "It's not you personally. I don't want a 'pal' who keeps finding ways to hurt me. And I sure as hell don't want a hulking asshole of a boyfriend." I snorted. "As if you want either one. You just want to torment me. You always did."
"Why does it torment you?" he said, stepping boldly closer, ignoring my glare. "Why? You let everyone else kiss you. You cuddle up to Killie like...like a puppy. You sneak into Singh's bed every single fucking chance you get. But everything I do upsets you. I can't be near you without hurting you. If I kiss you, it's the same as assault, apparently."
"It was stupid and mean," I told him. "I didn't say you could."
"No. No, you're right about that. I should never have kissed you, and I never will again." He looked at me bitterly. "And all the rest of it?" he inquired, trying to sound coolly collected and not managing it.
"The rest of it doesn't matter. You're poison for me, and I can't believe I'm any better for you."
"YOU'RE MY MATE," he thundered. "Of course you're good for me! If you'd just pull your head out of your ass and notice—"
He stopped, panting. We stared at each other. My heart felt frozen, brittle, like cracking glass. Any second now, and it would break completely. "No. I'm not your mate. I'm nobody's mate."
"But...but, can't you feel it? Smell it? How compatible we could be, if we'd only try?" He looked bewildered.
"It doesn't work that way. Not for everybody — not for me. I don't want a mate. I don't even believe in that shit anymore."
He gulped hard, nodding a few times, blinking hard. "Will you never see me as anything but your enemy? The annoying guy who follows you around and tries to get your attention?"
I stared at him as dispassionately as I could. Then I shook my head. "Nothing. I don't see you as anything. How could I?"
"Russ," growled a voice I barely recognized as the friendly-sounding man who'd been introduced to me as Russ's father. "That's enough. You have your answer. Don't embarrass yourself further."
"But—" Russ's head drooped, and he gave a slow, single nod, then turned and walked out very slowly.
I watched him go bitterly. We weren't done fighting. But, really, it would only have gotten worse from there. A slow burn of anger was becoming white-hot inside me. Soon, I'd have said anything to hurt him, and I was pretty sure I'd have been able to come up with some real zingers.
Instead, I was now facing his father, who looked apologetic and grim. "I apologize for my son's behavior. He won't bother you again. Is there anything the pack can do to make it up to you?"
I shrugged and turned back to the engine. It was still calling to me, needing my help, even if the rest of the world had gone to shit. "I don't need anything. I'll probably leave tomorrow."
"We can give you a ride to the airport. Pay for a ticket. Anything you need."
"I have money. I'll take the ride, if I can get this fixed by morning."
He swallowed, looking like it hurt. "I can only apologize again. My son wasn't raised like that. I don't condone him pressuring you at all."
"Okay."
I didn't want to listen to him anymore. I wished he'd just go. But he stood there as if he was waiting for something. I glanced at him. He looked torn, troubled about something. Because his son had considered me for a mate, maybe? Or because I'd turned him down?
"He could've said something sooner, you know."
"Yes."
"If he'd told me right away, I could've told him no, and he wouldn't have wasted all this time."
