I shouldn’t have said that. The knowing look she gives me in response tells me she knowsexactlywhat I mean.
“I’m going in,” she grits out, turning on her heel and walking back inside.
Fuck. I think I may have just unintentionally come out to my best friend. I stare up at the stars, breathing heavily as I try to calm my racing heart.
Cassie knows I like Atticus. Cassie and Atticus have beentalking. There are so many negative emotions swirling inside of me that I can’t even think, can’t even move.
How do I handle this? Ijustdecided to say fuck you to Atticus and allow his alter ego to manhandle me, and suddenly I’m drawn back in, all because of my own jealousy.
The truth is, I have no claim over Atticus. Not anymore. So Cassie can do as she pleases.
I think I need to go home. I’m not in the mood to party.
But as I finally get the nerve to move toward the door, a hand shoots out from the shadows, yanking me behind a tool shed just out of reach of the porch light.
A loud shriek leaves me, but before it can alert anyone who might hear it over the music, a palm is roughly shoved against my lips.
And with my back pinned to the tin shed, my body heaving, I stare up into familiar hazel eyes as they glare down at me.
“Cameron,” Atticus purrs.
“What?” I ask, dazed at his appearance, though the word isn’t understandable from behind his palm.
“You look shocked to see me.” He grins, but it’s a twisted grin full of heat and fury.
Finally, he removes his hand. My panting breath resonates around as I gather myself.
“B-but… why are you…” I don’t finish. Ican’t.
Instead, I drop my eyes to his hands, searching for those purple hues that tell me, alongside his eyes, who exactly it is I’m being faced with.
“I saw your game. You looked… distracted there toward the end,” Atticus mocks, completely ignoring my previous attempt at a question.
And now I’mangry. He’s just going to show up here and startle me? For what? And on top of that, he’s making fun of me?!
“Can I help you, Atticus?” I sneer, letting him see my rage. “I thought I was to leave you alone.”
Atticus appears to find my anger amusing, as if I’m a little kitten bearing its claws.
“That wasbeforeyou antagonized me, sweetheart,” he murmurs through his smirk.
“Don’tcall me that,” I snap. “And I did no such thing.”
“Really?” he pries. “Game onis what you said, isn’t it?”
My eyes widen. Oh, shit. He’s here because of my message a few days ago… because I pretended not to recognize his number and all but told him to fuck himself.
And he looks far too happy about being here, confronting me about it.
On the plus side, it reallyishim, with his big hazel eyes and fingers without discoloration.
I check again just to make sure.
“What?” Atticus asks, lifting his hand in front of my face. “Those eyes of yours are begging for me to touch you.”
“Don’t,” I plead, my eyes snapping up to meet his. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?” Atticus tilts his head curiously. “You love it when I touch you. It’s the only honest thing about you.”
