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He’s always been a rebel and a troublemaker.
Freaking Bandit.
But if my dig made a dent on his cockiness, I can’t see it.
Because he’s as casual as ever. “Your point being?”
“My point being that maybe you should stop thinking about how much you hate me for once and start thinking about Lucas. Because maybe I’m here tonight to be there for him. As friends. He’s going to need all the support that he can get and I’m here to give it to him.”
“Yeah, no. He doesn’t need anything from you.”
God, I hate him.
I hate him so so much.
“He was noticing me too, you know,” I say then, unable to stop myself.
Probably not the wisest thing to say to him.
But I’m getting a little tired of his taunts.
And his fucking gatekeeping.
“Well,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “you can’t blame him, can you? You look pretty as fuck.”
“You know what, I —”
“But I don’t think he’s going for desperation these days.” I flinch again and he goes on, “So really, I’m saving you all the trouble here.” He dips his chin. “You’re welcome.”
I would’ve laughed.
If I wasn’t so furious.
Because the idea of him saving me from anything is ludicrous.
It’s ridiculous, farcical, absurd. Preposterous.
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“And I can save myself. I don’t need your help.”
“I seem to recall differently though.”
I stiffen. “Don’t go there.”
“Yeah, why?” He looks me up and down. “You threatening my armoire again?”
He did not just say that.
He did not justmockmy actions from two years ago.
The ones that I regret down to my bones.
Down to my very soul.
The stupid, reckless actions that destroyed my life. That changed the course of it by sending me to a reform school.
