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“Where’s your dad’s stuff?” he grumbled.
I felt my face crack in confusion. I was still pissed at him, but my curiosity got the better part of me. “What stuff?”
“Bathroom stuff.” He looked back at me darkly and clenched his jaw. He was fuming now. And that pissed me the hell off.
“Why areyoumad?!” I practically stomped my foot. “I’mmad atyouright now!” I was the one who had to sit at the bar all alone feeling like a total loser while watching TJ make out with Ellie, and Smitty dance with Ashlee, and all the other couples having a grand old time, wondering why the hell I could never seem to have that.
He said nothing. Just shuffled toward the bathroom, opened the door, and slammed it shut in my face.
I was left standing in the hall, feeling the reverberation from the door.
A few seconds later, I heard a buzzing sound.
No… he wouldn't, not just because…
I gritted my teeth.What a freaking baby!I beat my fists against the bathroom door. “What are you trying to prove?!” I screamed. “Stop it, okay?!”
But the buzzing sound just kept on continuing.
He was just teasing me, I decided. I knew he was impulsive– I was too– but he wasn’tthatimpulsive. He was trying to get a rise out of me to see what I’d do. But it wouldn't work.
I paced the living room trying to figure out how to handle this new development. I decided I needed to look unaffected.
I tried to calmly sit back on the couch with Beau and turn on TV, but anxiety was coursing through my chest.
Five minutes later, the door opened and I forced myself not to look at him. Looking would defeat my whole couldn’t-care-less attitude.
“Claire,” he said between clenched teeth. “Claire!” I flinched at the tone of his voice.
“What?!” I looked up at him now and realized he really was that impulsive. His brown floppy hair was buzzed off haphazardly and I swear to God tears welled up in my eyes because I was so damnmadat him.
“How does it feel?!” he asked with wide, hurt eyes. “Not very good when someone does something just to spite you, huh?”
I stood up and moved toward him quickly. I used both hands to push his chest with all my might. But he barely budged. His eyes just flamed as he stared down at me.
“You. Look. Like. An. Asshole!” I enunciated each word with a push.
“My phone is in that jacket I gave you. There’s nowhere else it could be. That’s why I couldn’t call you. Go check!” He pointed to my room, like he was my dad, doling out a punishment. “If you could just stop being so… So–” he cut himself off and let out a frustrated growl.
“Sowhat, Duke? Finish that sentence!” I dared him.
He was silent. He looked down at me with furious eyes as his nose flared.
I pushed past him and marched at a break-neck pace toward my room. His crutches clattered to the floor and he was loudly hopping after me, probably thinking that would allow him to reach me faster, but I slammed my childhood bedroom door shut in his face.
“Maybe stop jumping to conclusions, Claire!” he yelled through the door. “I want to be with you!”
I fumbled through the pile of clothes I threw in my overnight bag earlier.Yes, I brought the jacket. Yes, I brought it because I planned on sleeping in it. Yes, it smelled like him.
My fingers felt a hard, sleek surface…Shit.
I marched back to the door, swung it open, and screamed, “Maybe try harder to communicate then! BecauseIjust want to be withyou!”
We were standing just inches apart, fuming at each other.
“Oh my God!” he roared exasperatingly at the ceiling.
“Oh my God!” I imitated him childishly.
