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On Tuesday night,I finally have to confront the problem of Alastor.
“What are you doing here?” I demand when he shows up at my apartment, uninvited. And I mean, literally shows up at the door. He didn’t ring the security buzzer so he must have snuck in when someone was leaving.Dick.
“You’ve been ignoring my texts.” And then he pushes past me into my apartment, as though it doesn’t matter at all that I haven’t invited him in.
“Yeah, because I didn’t want to see you,” I say pointedly .
He quirks a curious brow at me. “Yeah? And why is that?”
Because I knew if I saw you, I’d want to have sex again.I obviously don’t say that, however; instead, I just glare at him, making it obvious I don’t want him here.
“Look, I’m as shocked by it as you are, but the other night was...not as horrible as I always figured sex with you would be.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Wow. Be still my beating heart.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” he grinds out, clearly frustrated. “It was epic. And don’t even try to pretend it wasn’t. You were there.”
I sigh, lifting a hand to run through my hair. “Yeah. Okay. It was good sex.”
“No, it wasn’t ‘good’ sex,” he counters, mocking me with air quotes. “It was phenomenal sex.”
I fold my arms over my chest, reluctant to agree even though I know he’s right. Saturday night was fucking mind-blowing and it’s driving me crazy that it was with Alastor King. “Fine. What’s your point?”
He stares at me like I just asked why the sun comes up in the morning. “My point is that we obviously need to do it again.A lot.”
“I disagree,” I say with a shrug, even though what I really want to say is ‘yes, yes, yes! Hell, yes!’
Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to have sex with someone I don’t like.”
“That didn’t seem to bother you on Saturday,” he points out, flashing me that infuriating smirk.
“That was different. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I am now .”
He sighs. “Out of curiosity—why don’t you like me?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You don’t know why I don’t
like you?”
He shrugs. “Nope. I’m an extremely loveable guy—
everyone thinks so. Well, everyone except you...”
“Well, lucky me. I guess I’m the only one whose life
you ruined.”
“How the hell did I—oh.”I see the moment the light-
bulb goes on, when his face morphs from indignation to realisation to guilt. “I—I thought you were out.”
“I was seventeen,” I say softly. Out teenagers were few and far between twenty years ago when we were at school. And I know part of my early dislike of Alastor stemmed from jealousy. I was envious of the way he was so easy in his skin, and, as juvenile as it sounds, I was also jealous of his friendship with Trent. But that niggling dislike turned into outright hatred when I learned he was the one who outed me. Mistake or not, it happened. And I wasn’t anywhere near ready.
“It wasn’t—I didn’t—” he falters, shaking his head sharply .
“I need you to go,” I tell him, my voice as firm as I can make it.
