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Even though that isn’t true at all.
We’ve never been friends. We’re still not—this is a business arrangement.
But if we were to become friends…that might not be so bad.
Sullivan may be arrogant and demanding, with morals that are cinderblock gray, but he’s also funny and surprisingly considerate.
It’s the little things, like the way he picked up as soon as I called and how he’s talking to me right now while that asshole in the background taps his toe…
He brought me breakfast and the prettiest swimsuit I’ve ever worn. He offered me a place to stay without hesitation and ordered gourmet groceries for my amusement…
Sullivan treats me like a friend.
I value that highly because I haven’t had many.
I like the way he says my name. And I feel better now that I’ve called him even though I haven’t told him what happened yet.
In fact, I’m wondering if I should mention it at all. If Sullivan’s already having a bad day, he doesn’t need any more drama from me. I can tell him what happened later, when he gets home.
“I didn’t know you were in the shit,” I admit. “I thought your life was perfect.”
Sullivan’s laugh carries a slight edge. “Is that why you never liked me?”
I’m glad he can’t see my face right now—I guarantee it’s flaming red.
“Who said I didn’t like you?”
“Theo…” His voice is low and stern. “I can tell.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We hardly knew each other.”
That’s technically true but false in every way that matters. My brain floods with a hundred times I saw Sullivan in hallways and classrooms and across a crowded gym. Our circles rarely overlapped because his was everyone who mattered and mine was me and a few other misfits.
But there was hardly a day when I didn’t think about Sullivan Rivas.
There’s always been a thread between us, invisible, but tugging at me all the same—eye contact that lasted a little too long. A few words in passing that made my heart beat harder for days…
I was watching him.
And it sounds like sometimes…he was watching me.
“I always wondered what was going on inside that head of yours,” Sullivan says. “You were so quiet. But you were always reading, writing, drawing something...”
“You intimidated me,” I admit. “I was afraid of you.”
My stomach twists as I remember prom night—when I saw the ugliest side of Sullivan.
“I was an asshole,” he says baldly.
“Maybe a little…”Or a whole hell of a lot…“But you’re not so bad now.”
“You think so?” I can hear his smile, and that makes me see it in my mind, that flash of wicked white in his deeply tanned face. “Well, you can be the first member of my fan club. I get jealous of Reese.”
In the background, I hear Sullivan’s irritable companion shouting something. It sounds like,Get your fucking ass over here or I’m leaving…
“I don’t thinkhe’sgoing to join.”
Sullivan laughs. “Not a chance—especially not after I tell him the final offer from my client.”
