A bubble of relief pops in my chest. My eyes flutter shut, nodding. The itch lessens. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”
“Why is that good?” she asks carefully.
“Appearances.”
Bold faced fucking lie and she smells it on me.
Her eyes flare. “You said you’d be honest.”
Yeah, well, I’m too scared to be.
“I am.”
She’s watching me far too closely. I focus on her freckles instead of eyes because the constellations on her skin comfortme rather than break down my willpower. Those doe eyes? Whole other story.
“Why were you so angry that he was flirting with me, Carter?” she asks.
I just shoot her a look.
We both know we shouldn’t be talking about this. Stolen glances and hidden touches are one thing. We can continue to act like it’s pretend. Like we’re doing this for the bit. But I’m not fucking stupid. I know that it’s felt like more lately. I know that I feel so possessive over her, so entirely consumed by her, that not a moment of my day goes by without thinking about her, wondering what she’s doing, how her shift is going, how her dad is. Each time I drop her off, I’m already thinking of things that we can do together the next time I see her.
My heart has started to beat to the rhythm in which she says my name.
“Why?” she asks again.
“What are you doing?” I ask, forcing my voice to be gentler. “You know the lines you don’t want to cross, Red, sowhat are you doing?”
She walks toward me, arms folded across her chest, heels clicking with each step. She trudges right into my space so that she’s staring up at me the way she does when we’re laying it on thick for the crowd, and it takes everything in me not to reach for her waist, but I don’t. If I touch her right now, I’m not going to want to stop. If I touch her right now, I’m admitting my guilt without uttering a single word.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” she says, her voice quiet. “You can answer, or you can leave.Whydid it bother you?”
I swallow, but I don’t look away. “You know why.”
She doesn’t waver. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re pissing me off,” I warn her, but my voice shakes. I’m not sure if she notices, but I do.
“What else is new?” She shrugs.
I stare at her, my jaw pulsing. She’s going to kick me to the curb if I don’t comply. I can see it in her eyes. She will not accept a non-answer. Not after tonight.
Fuck it.
“BecauseIwant to be the one who fucking flirts with you.Iwant to want you,” I say, my voice gravelly as I press my hand to my chest. Her eyes flutter a bit, like hearing those words was a caress of my hand. “And it’s fucking torture, wanting you.”
She swallows, gaze slowly meeting mine again. “Why?”
I’m starting to hate that word.
“Because I can’t fucking have you,” I say, sounding more defeated than I intend to. I reach up to tuck a strand of those wispy, long bangs behind her ear. “Because I can’t fucking touch you just to touch you. Hold you just to hold you.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Your rules,” I remind her.
She shrugs again. “Rules change.”
I study her face, those eyes,veryfucking carefully. “What are you saying?”
