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“Not now,” I said. “I mean, I was—”
“Forget it,” Weston said, standing straight and shouldering his bag. “The Drakes send a cleaning lady once a week. She does the laundry…mixes up our clothes sometimes.”
His gaze flicked up and down along my body, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of pain in the blue-green depths, before they turned icy again.
“I’m going. See you.”
A soft pain swelled in my chest at his refusal to be in the same room with me for longer than a minute. I tugged the hem of the shirt—Weston’s shirt—lower over my thighs.
“Weston?”
“Yeah?” he said at the door without turning.
“I miss our talks.”
His shoulders flinched almost imperceptibly. A pause fell between us in which the air grew thick. Then he sliced through it with his cold tone.
“What talks?”
I slumped against the kitchen counter. “Nothing. Have a good day.”
Weston hesitated a moment more, than grunted from his throat and headed out, shutting the door hard behind him.
The silence felt thick and heavy and the apartment seemed cold and dim now. I went back to Connor’s room. I changed out of Weston’s shirt and put it in the hamper, then reached for my dress that was a crumpled ball on the floor.
“Got your coffee?” Connor mumbled.
“No, I need to get back to my place anyway,” I said, buttoning my dress up the front. “Shower and change.”
“‘Kay.”
I grabbed my shoes and purse, then bent to kiss Connor.
“Have a good day,” I said. I hesitated for a second, then bent to kiss him again, trying to recapture the warmth of the morning that Weston’s cold snap had ruined.
Connor’s lazy smile widened. “You sure you can’t stay?”
“No, I’ll be late.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” I said. “Bye.”
I hurried out of the apartment, one of my father’s sayings in my thoughts.
If you hear the snake’s rattle, best to listen to it.
Weston was an asshole. That was his rep, and I had no concrete reason to think otherwise. He’d hardly spoken a handful of words to me over the last month. He left a room minutes after I walked into it, often with a cutting remark. And yet…
I always felt there was more to Weston than he let on, and that he did nothing to alter his asshole reputation because it guarded him. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew it. Instinctively. And it made me immune to his crankiness.
But it hurts a little, I thought as I walked home, shivering in the gray, misty morning. Just a little.
Weston
Shit shit shit…
I fled the apartment as if it were on fire, my blood running just as hot. I thought those two fucking in Connor’s room all night was the worst thing that could happen.
