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“Yeah, well, you used to be a nice guy,” I throw back. “I don’t find backstabbing, lying assholes amusing.”
His expression goes blank. I avoid looking at him and focus on getting my boot unzipped. Sometimes when I look directly into his pretty blue eyes, I see the same sweet guy I used to be friends with. The one I grew up with, shared secrets with, and played hide-and-seek with. The one who made me laugh after my mom smacked me for breaking a vase. The guy whose hand I held after his dad bruised his face. Back then, it felt like it was Ryder, Reece, Blaise, and I against the big, cruel mafia world. And it wasn’t so scary, knowing all of them were by my side. Then they shattered me into pieces that I’ll never be able to piece back together. It was a domino effect, the end of our friendship. And the moment it ended, my entire life tumbled into a mess, bit by bit, until nothing was left.
I keep my head down. Finally, after a silent minute ticks by, I assume he has slipped out of the room. But when I lift my gaze, he’s still in my room and has moved closer to my bed.
I huff a frustrated breath. “Dude, why are you still here?”
He observes me momentarily before wandering over. “Here, let me help you.” He drops to his knees in front of me and reaches for my boot.
I capture his hand before he can touch me. “What’re you doing?” I ask in horror. WTF? Ryder does not get down on his knees for anyone. That much I do know.
He peers up at me through his long eyelashes. “I’m helping you get your boots off.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You don’t, huh?” he questions with his brows raised.
“Yep.” Then, to prove my point, I unzip the boot. But I end up dragging my finger down the side of my boot like a dumbass who thinks they just grabbed a hold of an invisible zipper.
He smashes his lips together to wrestle back a laugh. “Just let me help you, okay? I know you don’t want to sleep in those boots.”
He’s right. I don’t. I don’t want to give him the benefit of being right, either.
As I have an internal mini-meltdown, he slowly slips his hand out of mine and reaches for the zipper. “I’m just going to unzip it.” He speaks to me like I’m a skittish cat. “And then you can take them off, okay?”
I eye him warily. “Whatever. Do what you need to do, I guess.”
He ducks his head and wraps his fingers around the zipper. His knuckles brush against my thigh as he does, sending tingles across my flesh. I don’t hate it, but I blame it on the weed and booze.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“No … Why?”
“You have goosebumps all over your leg.” Smugness creeps into his tone, as if he knows the truth—that his touch caused them to appear.
Ryder was always a man whore. He knew he was hot, and apparently, that hasn’t changed.
And that irritates me.
I end up letting my reckless side get a hold of me. “You know, tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way. I had a plan. Did Reece mention that?” I’m toying with him.
“No,” he says distractedly.
“Yeah, I was doing all sorts of crazy things.”
“Mmhmm …” he mumbles.
What’s got him so distracted is a mystery, but he’s barely paying attention to me, focusing on that zipper as he reaches the bottom of my boot. Then he gently grabs my other leg and moves it toward him. His fingers graze my thigh again, and I almost lose my train of thought, but I force myself to remain focused.
“It was on the west side of town,” I tell him.
That captures his undivided attention.
“What the hell were you doing over there?” he growls. “Do you know how dangerous it could’ve been if the wrong person figured out who you are?” He yanks his fingers through his hair, making the dark strands go askew. “Fuck. When Reece texted me, I thought he meant you were at the party at the Ivy’s. Not the one on the west side.”
“Reece was there, too,” I point out.
“Reece was working tonight,” he says. “He was at a ton of parties.”
