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"Why do you explain yourself to Caspar and barely make time to meet up with me?" he asked softly.
"You know I’ve been busy, and I’ve kept up with you when I could. Just like you, Caspar texts me every now and then and calls me every day. "
His eyes seemed to be glaring holes into Mykie's side. "Caspar calls you?"
Mykie groaned and if she wasn't the one driving, she would have held her face in her hands. "Is that a problem, Corbus? You better not say that I can't talk to him, either. Caspar feels like he owes me something for helping him at work, and I don’t want to deny him that."
"Which is why he shouldn't be trying to get in your pants!" He snapped. His breath was short and ragged after his outburst, his eyes wild and angry as he watched Mykie for her reaction.
"Do you seriously think he's trying to do that? That he doesn't just want to talk to me?" She asked, flabbergasted.
"Of course, he does, but..." Corbus stopped and bit his lip.
Mykie was getting sick of beating around the bush. She wanted answers, and she was used to getting them as soon as she asked. She was taught by Chance to be a leader. Once she knew what she wanted, she was to demand it and worry about the repercussions after.
"Just tell me what thefuckingproblem is already. Are you jealous? Is he bragging? Just spit it out before I reach your house and ask the others," Mykie bit out. She turned onto the road with the hill to their house, and the farther they got from town, the fewer streetlights there were. The car was pitch dark now, and Mykie could only tell that he was looking at her, not his expression.
"I know Caspar kissed you... but Renly told us to stay away from you. I think Renly wants to be with you, but doesn't want to overwhelm you since you just met," he answered quietly.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Hespecificallysaid those words?" She asked between clenched teeth.
"I don't know. The point was clear, though. He called dibs from the beginning, and we were supposed to back off. Some of us ignored that,obviously."
It made sense now. Corbus always made sure to call her whenever he was in his room or he was sure no one else was home. Caspar explained that he was afraid someone might overhear any of his questions, but that wasn't the real reason. He was afraid someone might ask who he was talking to.
“Didn’t you? You asked me on a date, remember?”
“I didn’t bring it up again, right? Renly told us after that that he met you first, so he should have first dibs,” he muttered.
"So, you just do whatever Renly asks of you?"
Corbus turned in his seat, his hands flying as he talked. "It's his house. I wasn't going to fight with him about it."
Mykie rolled her eyes and pulled into the driveway. The garage door was open, and not all the cars that were there on Friday were back yet. She pulled into the space beside Caspar's red car and turned off her vehicle.
"You might not want to, but I certainly will," Mykie muttered, climbing out her car. She yanked open the door behind her seat and gathered up her stuff.
"Wait, you're going to say something to Renly?" Corbus asked as he came around the back of her car. "You can't do that."
"Why not?" Her voice was tight, but she tried to not show her emotions on her face. She turned on her heel and walked across the garage. Corbus chased after her and grabbed her shoulder just as they reached the door that led to the living room.
"He's going to be pissed with me if you argue with him! He'll know I was the one that said something." His voice was shaky enough that Mykie looked over her shoulder.
Mykie frowned. "Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why would he call dibs?”
He looked confused. “No, why? Did he give the impression that he did?”
She looked away from him. Fuck. Did she just convince herself in the matter of a week that the man was off limits out of mixed signals?
“It doesn’t matter. No one can call dibs on people. Especially when Renly hasn’t tried to keep up with me since that day. Only I can decide who I want to spend my time with.”
“You’re right. I just don't want to deal with his temper. He's probably going to be embarrassed that you know now."
"That's more of a reason to confront him," she stated. She lifted her hand to rest atop of his. She lifted it off her shoulder and held it between both of her hands. His hands were icy cold, but soft and without any cruelty she was used to feeling with Dexter. They were innocent hands; ones she couldn't imagine doing hard labor. His grip wasn't strong or confident like Renly's. It also wasn’t callused like Caspar’s. He was gentle.
She took one of her hands away from his and opened the door to the living room. She pulled him through the door and led him over to the couch in front of the unlit fire.
