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It’s so fast and sudden it scares me, but before I can say anything, he’s out the door, lunging into the night.
He rips the heavy balcony door open, stopping its momentum like it’s nothing in his strong hand.
“Chris, wait. I just—”
“Shut it, Delia. I didn’t come here begging for your pity, and I sure as shit don’t need advice. You’re right, it doesn’t have to be like this. I’m getting the fuck back where I belong so I don’t have to stare at a chick all summer who’s too afraid to fuck because our folks pulled the dumbest shit of their lives. Don’t need the stress between missions. Peace out.”
Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Every word leaves my ears ringing.
The worst part is, I can’t think of anything else to say.
Not until I realize he’sgone.
Oh, crap, he’s about to—
“Chris!” I rush outside and stumble to the banister.
I’m terrified it’s already too late and if I look down, I’ll see him on the grass below, broken or totally lifeless. But when I stare down in confusion, all I see is dull blackness.
Night.
Silence.
Then there’s a soft groan from his balcony. He’s already jumped, hit the other side, and he hoists himself up over the railing.
I watch his mountain of a body dart up and flop down safely on the balcony like it’s nothing.
Wow. He could shame an Olympic gymnast.
He doesn’t look back before he disappears into his room, completely ignoring me.
Boneless, I drag myself back to my bed, this time locking the door behind me.
I’ve never met a man who makes me want to scream so effortlessly.
I want to pummel my pillow, but I just don’t have the energy.
Plus, the noise would probably bleed through the wall we share. I shudder at the thought of that smug, broody superprick smiling at how bad he’s riled me up.
I hope to God he was serious about leaving.
And somehow, I hope even harder that I’ll never have to see his crazy face again.
* * *
After about an hourof tossing and turning, I’m in that sickly space between rage and sleep and pure exhaustion.
The last day has been a doozy and a half.
My brain won’t stop looping everything he’s said to me.
The horny threats. The arrogance. The teasing. The attraction.
The walking mystery.
Look, I barely know him, even after he’s managed to push buttons I didn’t know I had.
