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I rub the red substance between my fingers. It’s definitely blood.
“Don’t lie to me,” I say, trying to look, but she angles her head away and jumps out of bed.
“Fine. It’s blood,” she groans. “Jake’s blood. Not mine. He cut his finger, and I guess it got on me. I thought I got it all out in the shower.”
She goes to the bathroom, and I follow her in, watching as she starts washing out her hair.
A little stream of red flows out, but to my relief, it stops, which means she’s really not bleeding.
“Why wouldn’t you just say that?”
She shrugs, not looking at me. “You’re all freaked out about Jake. I thought not mentioning him anymore would be a good idea.”
I blow out a breath, and her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a jealous ass.”
She gives me a tight smile.
“I have no right to lie to you and make you feel guilty about it. Sorry,” she says, sighing as she looks down at the ground.
Tilting her face up, I bend down, brushing my lips over hers.
“Looks like we’re both still figuring out how to do this thing. It’s a learning experience,” I tell her, smiling when she groans and presses her head into my chest.
“You’re so good,” she says quietly. “I’m afraid I’m going ruin all the best parts about you.”
“Not possible. You’re good too, Lana.”
She tenses against me, and I get worried when her grip tightens around my waist. I’m not sure what happened in the past five minutes, and she’s become impossible to read.
Instead of probing her with questions, I just hold her until she finally sighs against my chest.
“I’ve missed you too,” she finally says after a long spell of silence.
“Then let me take you out on that date.”
She peers up, arching an eyebrow. “Lobster and wine?”
I nod.
She grins. “Then orgasms.”
I laugh as she skips out of the bathroom, her good mood back. She’s an enigma, and I think that’s half of her appeal.
Chapter 16
Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.
—Albert Einstein
LANA
Dinner? Perfect. Lobster? Loved it. Wine? Amazing. Logan? Too good for me.
I lied to him. Then I lied to recover from my lie because I couldn’t tell him I was wearing my latest two victims’ blood in my hair. The guilt he had on his face made me hate myself.
He apologized.
