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“Ask me inside,” he says, like we’re reliving that first time he stood in my doorway. Right before he kissed me.
This time he doesn’t have the courtesy to backtrack. He just waits.
So I take a step to the side and let him pass me.
He stops in the middle of the room and turns to face me.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
He looks so impossibly sincere when he says it. Because that’s what he’s like.
Fuck him.
“You know what the phrase ‘I’m sorry’ means?” I ask.
“Enlighten me.”
“It means shit all.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it means I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Good for you. Still means shit all. They’re just words. And they mean goddamn shit all. It doesn’t matter what you say. The only thing that matters is what you do. And you—” I grit my teeth. “You hurt me.”
I don’t mean to admit it, but the words just burst out, and now I feel vulnerable and small and somehow like he made me admit it. Like he deviously coaxed the words out of me.
He made me weak.
And what’s worse, he made me show it.
It only makes me angrier. Like a cornered animal. I rolled over and showed him my weak spot, and I hate, hate, hate that I did.
He simply nods. “I know,” he says gruffly.
I squeeze my fingers into fists and let go over and over again before I start to pace. There are too many emotions inside me, and I can’t get them out, and it’s just all too much. I don’t know what to do with this excess anger.
This is why I don’t do emotions.
“You should go,” I finally say. “You said what you came here to say. I heard you. Now you should go.”
He cocks his head to the side with something that can only be described as mild, polite curiosity.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because this is my home, and I told you we’re over, so I don’t want you here.”
He’s across the floor and in front of me in a heartbeat.
“And I told you we’re not fucking over,” he says, challenging eyes on me, daring me to argue.
“That’s how a serial killer keeps a boyfriend. If I say we’re over once more, will you lock me in the basement?”
“Tempting. We’ll call it plan B.”
He lifts his hand and runs it down my neck until his thumb is planted at the hollow of my throat.
I raise my brow at him and clench my jaw while I ignore my dick.
“What’s plan A?”
