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The one word causes me to spit out my coffee.
He smirks at my reaction. “It’s organic.”
I cover my face with my napkin and shake my head before cleaning up the mess. “There are so many things disturbing about your answer … about yourfavorite food.”
“Disturbing?” He raises his brow as a teasing smile plays over his lips. Yes, the man loves fucking with me.“What is sodisturbingabout it?”
I start to answer, but he cuts me off and continues talking. “I’m not surprised that someone whose boyfriend never sufficiently ate her pussy would find my answer disturbing. I’m sorry your orgasm-abandoned personality finds it disturbing, but a quick tip for when you find another boyfriend: you’d better pray it’s his favorite meal.” He grabs his coffee and leans back in the booth. “I’d suggest making it a first-date question.”
I can’t stop from smiling even though he just talked shit about me and insulted my personality.Orgasm-abandoned? Who says that? Hell, what does it even mean?
“You’re seriously depraved.” I grab my coffee and rest my elbows on the table as the cup dangles from my fingers. I take a slow drink and continue. “Maybe it’s why I’ve hated you all these years.”
He sets his mug down and leans across the table, lowering his voice so that only I hear. “You didn’t hate me that night.”
I push against his forehead with my palm, and he relaxes in the booth, not one bit alarmed I forehead-slapped him.
“You need to quit with that bullshit before I throw my coffee in your face.”
He drapes his arm along the booth. “In high school … I did a shitty thing.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
As painfully as I want to deny it, regret is on his face.
“I’ve felt like a douchebag since then.”
“You should.”
My gaze lowers to my eggs before reaching Kyle’s eyes again. We’re inches apart, and it takes us seconds for our gazes to connect. I can’t resist pouring all my emotions out, needing him to witness the hurt he caused me, and we create the connection I wanted with him so many years ago.
“You could’ve fixed it, you know,” I say, soft-spoken.
He doesn’t look away. “It wasn’t that simple.”
“It was that simple.”
He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m sorry.”
A child screaming in the background breaks our connection, and I shut my eyes, shake my head, and withdraw, my back against the booth again.
“Whatever,” I finally mutter, opening my eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Obviously, it does since you bring it up every time we talk.” His face remains serious, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m fucking sorry, Chloe. I don’t know how many more times you want me to say it. Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you. Go ahead. As long as it’s not cutting off my balls or some shit, I’m willing.”
There’s nothing he can do to change it now. The damage is done. Although this is the first time he’s offered to make up for what he did instead of giving me a simple apology.
“I don’t like this Kyle,” I grumble. I need the smart-ass Kyle who’s easier to hate to return—not the guy who takes care of me when I’m drunk and then insists on having breakfast together.
He raises a brow while studying me. “What Kyle?”
“The nice, no-ulterior-motive Kyle.”
He takes a bite of his neglected breakfast and swallows it down. “How do you know I don’t have an ulterior motive?”
“Do you?”
He shrugs. “Possibly.”
