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I need to keep my mind out of the gutter.
“Why are you chasing death?” she asks me.
Surprise at the question turns my head so fast I almost pull a muscle.
“I’m not.”
Those blue eyes of hers meet mine, one brow arching in question.
“You sure about that? You drive recklessly. You fight for fun. I assume you’re reckless in who you choose to fuck or even how often you get drunk. Is there any area of your life you give enough of a shit about to use caution?”
I’ve used caution with her.
Not that I can admit it, and maybe not from the beginning.
But since I’ve started learning about her, yeah.
I’m not acting like myself. I’m being careful with something for once in my life, and I can’t even argue that point. It would reveal too much.
And possibly start something I’m not capable of sustaining.
“There’s not a lot I care about to use caution. I don’t think like everybody else. Besides, I have a lot to answer for in this life, and if the reaper decides it’s my day, he might be doing the world a favor.”
“Like what?”
Shifting her position so that she’s lying on her side facing me, she bends an arm then rests her head on her hand. Brinley looks absolutely gorgeous this way. Relaxed despite her environment.
“What could be so terrible that you don’t deserve to live?”
Killing two people. Fucking up I don’t even know how many other people’s lives. I can’t count how many bones I’ve broken in fights. Hospital bills I’ve cost people. Women I’ve made cry. Most of it for my amusement.
Fuck…
Most of it, I’m too ashamed to admit to her. Or scared to admit.
Telling her the worst parts would plant her right back in a spot where she hates me again.
“Just trust me, Brin. I’m not a good guy. I’m nothing like you, or anyone else for that matter, so why should I care whether I live or die?”
At that, she simply blinks those gorgeous eyes and offers me a bemused smile.
“Like me? What am I like that you can’t be?”
“Good,” I answer. “A decent person. Someone who, despite being the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever known, has a heart of gold. You care about people. About what happens to them. I can tell that just by being around you. And that makes you the furthest thing from what I am that’s possible.”
Damn if she doesn’t give up.
“People can change.”
“Oh, hell no,” I laugh. “This isn’t one of thoseyou make me a better personmoments.”
“Why not?”
Fucking stubborn, this one.
Staring at me with blinding sincerity, she posits, “If I admit to actually liking you, and even accept being your friend, is it possible I can help you stop hating yourself so much?”
“I don’t hate myself.”
