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And that was what did it.
She couldn’t decide which was worse—him regretting getting caught or him regretting almost letting it happen in the first place. Either way, if he regretted it already?
It didn’t matter how much she liked him—how much she had liked him since she was twelve freaking years old.
She deserved better than that.
He turned and walked away. She watched him go for a long minute.
Fuming, she turned and stormed toward the house. The door swung open before she could get to it, which only pissed her off more. With her mom holding the thing, she couldn’t even slam it behind her.
“Late night,” her mom observed.
“I’ve been home later.” She worked at a bar, for Pete’s sake.
“Zhaohui…”
She rounded on her mom. “Save it.”
Her mom regarded her. Zoe was vibrating with anger. At her mom for interrupting. At Devin for walking away.
At every freaking person in her life who treated her like a kid, who didn’t trust her to know her own mind.
Her mother made a softtutting sound in the back of her throat. She let the door swing closed. Lifting one brow, she leveled Zoe with her most skeptical gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Believe it or not, Mom,” she gritted out, “I usually do.”
Only in this case, even she wasn’t sure that was true.
Chapter Seven
You want to talk about it?”
Devin looked up to find Arthur gazing at him across the worktable in the back of Harvest Home. He fought not to snap at him. Arthur didn’t deserve any of his crap.
The only one who deserved that was himself.
“About what?”
Arthur just raised his brows, shifting his gaze pointedly to the mangled box Devin had been destroying in a vain effort to rip it open with his bare hands.
Okay, yeah, fine, so he was acting a little off.
Scrubbing his hand across his face, he grabbed the box cutter from the other side of the table and got back to work.
But Arthur wasn’t going to leave this one alone. “Let me guess. Girl trouble.”
Devin narrowly avoided slicing his finger off. Stupid. More carefully, he started again. “No.”
“Boy trouble, then?”
Devin scrunched up his face in confusion. “What?”
“Never hurts to ask,” Arthur said, waving away Devin’s reaction. “Zoe yelled at me the other day, saying I’m too”—he snapped his fingers a couple of times before finding the word—“‘heteronormative.’”
“Believe me, I still like the ladies.” There was nothing wrong with being gay, obviously, but Devin had known from day one that he was into women.
And what he was into right now, apparently, was a girl who was too young for him, a girl who got under his skin like nobody else. A girl who made it easy to talk about things he never talked about. His dad, his life, everything.
