Page 19 of Fight from the Heart

Then on other days, I wonder why he keeps me around.

The silence in my head answers my own question. I have no idea.

“Are you going on a date with him?” Jacob interjects.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s not, but are you?” His persistence pisses me off. Why does he care?

“Have you been drinking?” I ask, changing the subject.

“What? No.” He shakes his head in frustration as he drones, “Not this.”

“Can you drive home?” I question, concerned about him.

“Yes. Stop. It was like an hour ago, and it was only one,” he argues.

“I saw you at the bar.”

“I had one drink.” He’s emphatic as he stares at me, and I return the glare. “I ordered a second scotch and then changed it to a seltzer and lime.”

Interesting.

“What about the girl?” We’ve reached the back steps leading up to the pharmacy apartment.

“What?” he chokes out, his dark eyes narrowing in on me. “No girl.”

“I saw her at the bar next to you.”

“Come on, Lilac. You sound like a jealous love—” He abruptly stops, and I look away. “Wait a minute.” His voice shifts, excitement filling it. Next, I’m backed up to the pharmacy wall, and Jacob is crowding my space. His hand comes to my throat, tender but pinning me in place.

“Hey.” His voice softens. “Hey.” My eyes drop for my feet, which I can’t see because Jacob is filling my view. “Are you jealous?” The word stammers from his lips while a smile fills his voice. I don’t respond. Instead, I close my eyes to shut out his nearness.

“Lilac.” My name is a call in the night, sultry and deep. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Not another woman. Not Mandi. Pam, you’re fucking beautiful.”

He’s so close he could kiss me. His breath warms my lips. My heart hammers under my winter gear. Tears fill my eyes. I want to believe him. The compliment is said with such sincerity, but he can’t possibly mean it.

“Lilac.” My name on his lips again is a plea, but I can’t give in to him. We made a mistake. I made a mistake by not stopping him the other night, by giving in to my body’s desire and pretending Jacob did what he did to give me pleasure. I even hoped he got something out of it. He thanked me as he finished, as if I’d done something for him instead of the other way around. It was all confusing, and I don’t want to be confused. I want to get to my apartment and warm up.

“Good night, Jacob,” I say to him before I push him away and race up the stairs, fumbling with the key before stepping into my apartment and letting the tears flow.

Chapter 9

My Type

[Jacob]

She’s fucking jealous.

What the hell is she jealous of? Despite the negativity brought about by that emotion, I’m gloating over the fact she might be jealous of another woman with me because that means she cares about me.

But have I misread some things between us?

Not your type. However, the words echo through my head as I watch her race up the stairs and disappear into the second-floor apartment. What does she mean she’s not my type? She’s exactly my type. She loves classic gothic tales. She wears Converse, and she humors me about frozen pizza. She’s got those curves and the sweetest pussy, and now that I’ve had a taste, I want another bite. I don’t want her to compare herself to Mandi because they are total opposites, for the better.

Then I think of the guy in the bar.

Fucking surfer dude.