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Squaring my shoulders, I jut my chin out. “Yes. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
He takes in my fighting stance, the determined look on my face. “I think we’ve already established I’m your boss, haven’t we?”
“Not today, you aren’t.” I thrust my chin up more. “BecauseIthink we’ve already established that today’s my day off.”
A muscle in his cheek is flickering as he studies my face again. “Yeah, we have.”
With my heart beating in my throat, I say, “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
“That’s whatwhatis?”
“This,” I explain, looking into his light brown eyes made dark. “You being all angry and rude. It’s because I broke into your house. Well, I used a key but still. This is you punishing me for it. This is punishment. That’s why you’re crashing my date.” Then, frowning, “Although I don’t really understandhowyou’re crashing my date. Like how did you even know I was going to be here and —”
“Yeah, that’s what this is,” he cuts me off.
“See? I knew it.” I swallow with difficulty. “I knew that’s why you —”
“But crashing your date isn’t the punishment.”
“What?”
He leans down further as if he wants to make himself even larger. As if he wants to dwarf me more and while it was okay to like it before, it’s not okay now. He’s doing this for the sole purpose of intimidating me.
But my fluttering heart doesn’t get the message.
Like a fool in love, it beats and beats andbeatsat his close proximity.
“Punishment is what’s going to happen if you don’t leave the date and come with me.”
“C-come with you where?”
He takes another step toward me and if I wasn’t boxed in before, I’m definitely boxed in now. With a wall at my back, a vending machine and an office on either side, and him in the front. And I have a strange feeling that I may be able to bust through the brick wall and wooden door and that machine made of metal, but I won’t be able to bust through him.
He seems stronger than all these things.
He seems the strongest.
“Home.”
“Home?”
He nods, his eyes pinned on me. “Yes.”
“But I —”
“You ditch that douchebag you’re on a date with and leave with me right now, and I’ll forget what you did.”
I’ve never considered myself as a girl who goes weak in the knees. I’m too practical for that. Too level-headed and realistic. Although I have to admit that six months ago, I did become one of those girls.
I did.
Probably that’s why the thought of leaving the restaurant with him, when I came here for a date with another guy, is making my knees tremble.
It’s making me go breathless.
But I force myself to stop.
Again, even though my foolish heart did not get the message, this is not a thing to swoon over.
