In the end, it was no question that it was the latter. Still, he wasn’t going to stick around to see the soft reprimand on Dawson’s face.
He picked up his drink and left, not watching where he was going. Ending up in one of the smaller private rooms, with a conveniently unlocked door, off a hallway that made up one of the spokes off the main bar.
Draining the rest of his drink, Nate set it on the empty side table and paced back and forth in front of it.
He’d known as soon as those words were out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have said them. But he couldn’t go back to Dawson now and say that he hadn’t meant them at all. That he hadn’t meant any of the heartless, spiteful crap he’d been spouting ever since he’d run into Ramsey again and realized who he was.
It wasn’t right. Part of him wanted to go apologize to Ramsey for how much of an asshole he’d been. But if he did, he didn’t know which Ramsey he’d get. The Ramsey from June, who’d let him see, even briefly, behind all those smooth, charming walls, or the Ramsey after, who’d seemingly been on a quest to prove to everyone that he was perfectly okay.
But Nate was cursed to see right through the act, torn between being pissed that Ramsey insisted on the lie at all and worried that Ramsey clearly believed the lie was necessary.
“What did Dawson say to piss you off?”
Ramsey had either entered the room silently or Nate had been so distracted by his unruly thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed.
He shut the door behind him, and Nate tried not to tense.
“What does it matter?” He’d just been feeling guilty for being shitty to the guy, and now here he was, doing it again. Why? It was so much easier to be shitty, to reduce this emotional stew boiling inside him down to annoyance and anger than it was to try to identify each individual ingredient.
Ramsey just shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “You seemed pretty upset. Dawson looked worried.”
Nate wanted to ask whyhewas here, and not Dawson, but the answer was obvious enough. Dawson knew he’d pushed too hard and would back up. Ramsey didn’t know where the line was—or he knew, and he didn’t give a shit.
“I’m tired of everyone telling me how I should act,” Nate finally said. He didn’t add,to you, but he thought it was pretty obvious that was what everyone kept interfering over.
“Ah,” Ramsey said. “They want you to be nice to me.”
“Don’t you want that?”
Ramsey looked at him, and there was a little more of the real Ramsey in his face, now. Not entirely, but Nate had spent the last two months memorizing each and every version, cataloging how much of the truth he was seeing.
Hating how miniscule the percentage was, each and every time.
“I don’t care either way,” Ramsey lied.
It made Nate want to stomp over to him, wrap his hands around his gorgeous neck andwringit.
“Lie to everyone else, but not to me,” he spit out.
Ramsey had the nerve to look surprised. “How do you know—”
“Iknow,” Nate interrupted.
“Oh. Okay.” Ramsey looked unnerved now, licking his lips and glancing away. “I . . .I guess so, yeah. It would be nice. I keep trying to be friendly.”
“Friends,” Nate barked out, an amused laugh punctuating the word.
“Yeah, it’s stupid, isn’t it?” Ramsey said, baring his teeth in a smile similar to Nate’s unamused chuckle.
“They’re just so persistent,” Nate said, giving in and sighing, relaxing a hip against the side table. “I had to endure Aidan’s lecture two weeks ago, and now Dawson.”
“They mean well.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying as fuck.”
Ramsey’s smile was more relaxed now. More real. “If you think Aidan and Dawson are annoying, come hang out with Wes sometime when he thinks he can convince you to do something you don’t want to do.”
“Worse?”
