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What we just did…
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He pulls his hand from my pants like it’s on fire and jumps off me. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He walks away from me, vanishing into the kitchen.
I sit up and adjust my clothes back in place. My fingers touch my lips as I gaze over to where Logan disappeared. Taking a deep breath, I fight not to let my mind overthink his words, but the questions started coming the second he jumped off me and left me with all this confusion. What just happened? Why didn’t I stop it? Why is he so upset? Does he regret it? Should I? My body is still buzzing. Doubt starts to creep inside me. He’s mad because you took it too far. He’s just pretending. He wouldn’t really want you. Do you look like his type? Technically, I’m no one’s type. No one looks at me the way he just did. No one’s ever touched me, branded me, the way he has. But it wasn’t real. And now he’s mad at me for allowing it.
He walks back in, and I straighten up on the couch. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just trying to make it look real. Did I do a good job moaning? Not like he heard us, but if he did, do you think he believed us? That we were enjoying ourselves?” If I don’t admit I loved every single second of what just went down, maybe it will ease the sudden tension. Logan’s back to looking like a grouch and growls something under his breath.
“So, is that a no? I mean, if I were into you, maybe it would have been more believable—”
“Shut up, Addy. Just. Shut. Up.” Then he storms out of his house, slamming the door behind him.
I don’t move from the couch for some time. Confusion flutters in my stomach as I sit chewing on my bottom lip. I can’t stop wondering if I did something wrong. I get up and start to pace. Frustration shoves my confusion out of the way, and I become angry at how he can be so hot and cold. Fake or not, I felt something. I throw myself back onto the couch as pity takes its turn and bashes me for thinking he would actually be into me. He was faking it, sister. Guilt is up last, because I feel guilty for pretending I didn’t enjoy it. Is that why he got mad and stormed out? Telling me to shut up wasn’t very nice, and to be honest, not very gentlemanly. Yeah, because a mob thug is up to date on his manners and all.
I eat pizza alone. Since I’m mad, I eat all the good slices, leaving him only the crust. Then I feel bad and cut off the crust, hoping he doesn’t notice I ate all the good pieces. Then I just throw the pizza out because what the heck am I doing? Why am I even still here? Am I waiting around for him to come home, kiss my bruised ego, and make me feel better?
Maybe.
Possibly.
“Jesus, stop being so pathetic.” I get up. I’m not staying here like his little pet. I slide my shoes back on, which I seemed to have kicked off during our fake make-out session, and just as theatrically, walk out his door, slamming it behind me. Having no idea where I am, I start walking down the sidewalk, hoping I eventually hit a main street and can catch a cab. I’ll have it take me back to work, and I’m sure someone there will lend me some money to pay for the ride…I hope.
“We have to pretend, my ass,” I grumble to myself. “Maybe you should be clearer when you push the boundaries of pretending and be clearer when you moan my name!” I kick a rock in my path. “Tell me to shut up, you shut up. You grumpy bastar—”
“Off on a stroll?” My head whips over to a car that has slowed to my pace. Chino.
“Yep, and you? On your way to get that nose re-adjusted?” Jerk. What the hell does he want? More of a show? He can kiss it. I walk faster, pretending he’s not there. Where is the darn main street?
“Get in the car.”
“No thanks. I’m working off lunch. A girl has to watch her figure.” I start to walk faster, peering in between the houses, contemplating booking it.
“Get in the car, Addy.” That voice has me stalling in my step. The back driver side window rolls down, and Vincent reveals himself. “I hate to see you not dressed for this weather. It’s a hot one today. You’ll burn up in that hoodie. Let me take you to wherever it is you’re going.”
Shoot.
“Um…”
Story? No story. Listen to Logan? Take this matter into my own hands? “Okay, fine.” I walk off the curb and get into the car. My chest suddenly becomes tight, and I feel like I made the wrong decision.
