Page 180 of Make Me Mean It

“You just dragged me back onto the bench.”

“Because you were leaving.”

“Yeah, generally when someone walks away, that’s what they’re doing.”

Marcus’s eyes narrow.

Mine narrow straight back.

For a second, we just glare at each other, and it’s so fucking familiar that some of the tension in my chest loosens despite myself. This is us. This is the shit we know how to do. Not Connor. Not whatever the fuck happened between us. Just Marcus being an overbearing dick and me wanting to punch him for it.

I drop back against the lockers with a huff and fold my arms across my chest.

“Yeah, well, you fucking suck at apologising.”

The corner of my mouth twitches before I can stop it.

Marcus catches it, obviously, but thankfully doesn’t say anything. His gaze drops instead, landing on the phone still clutched in my hand, and something in his expression shifts.

Too interested.

I turn the screen slightly towards my thigh.

“He told me what happened.”

Every bit of amusement disappears.

My shoulders lock before I can stop them, and I hate that Marcus probably feels it beside me.

“I doubt that,” I scoff, turning my head away.

Because Connor can barely admit what happened to himself. I have a hard time believing he sat Marcus down and gave him a detailed fucking account.

I lean harder against the lockers, stretching my legs out in front of me and trying to look like I couldn’t give less of a shit about this conversation.

My pulse ruins the effect.

Marcus shifts beside me and his hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing once.

Firm.

Careful.

Way too fucking gentle.

My skin crawls.

I don’t want sympathy from Marcus. I don’t want him looking at me like he knows how badly Connor got under my skin, because then I have to acknowledge that everyone else can fucking see it too.

“He regrets it.”

My head snaps around.

Marcus is already watching me.

For one stupid fucking second, my chest lifts with something dangerously close to hope.

I crush it immediately.