Noticing that his undereye area is dark and his hair is slightly unkempt, I tilt my head and bite back a teasing smile. “Valid, but you aren’t just mildly bothered by it. It keeps you up at night, the fact that I don’t find you particularly friend-worthy.”
He shifts on his feet and scratches his arm. “Maybe.”
He never used to care how people feel, and now he’s uncomfortable with the reality of dealing with that emotion.Poor baby.
Don’t hug him.
“And you’re used to getting things your way. I bet you charm yourself out of all sorts of situations, get all sorts of yesses that were meant to be no’s, and here I am, kind of hating your guts. And you can’t stand it.”
He’s a little green around the gills. “Do you really hate me?”
Real talk,I don’t actually hate him. I mean, only an asshole would refuse to see that he’s putting himself out there and trying so hard to make amends. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him off the hook.
Besides, it’s fun to toy with him, turnabout being fair play and all.
“You flit about here and there, doing whatever the fuck you want to, not a goddamn care in the world. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to deal with real life.”
His face is kinda of adorable, if I’m honest. The anxious eyes and the downturned pout and the knitted brows all kinda work for him. I bite back a smile and let him answer.
“Okay, but that’s obviously not true, because I’mhere. Idohave a care in the world. Idocare that I was shitty to you, and then did not do a very good job of making it up to you, and I can’t stand the fact that you hate mewith good reasonbecause that’s the worst. At the very least I want to remove that reason so that you have no choice but to stop hating me.”
“Why do you care if I hate you, Roly? Seriously, why?”
His eyes go all big and sincere. “Because you’re this big beautiful bear of a man, and I am unable to flirt with you if you hate me.”
“You know what’s sad?” I ask, ignoring the fact that my dick just twitched at the prospect offlirting. “I believe you.”
“And you don’t want me to flirt with you,” he says, less a question and more a statement of fact.
I’m a shit liar, so instead I bring up something I should’ve gotten over years ago, if I’m being honest. “Roly, do you remember that funny little limerick that you created for me in high school?”
“A limerick?”
Is he fucking kidding me?Ohhellno.
“Look at you—you don’t evenrememberthat you wrote it, and stood in front of the class and said it out loud. I mean, did you not see that Eileen Stevens posted the goddamn limerick to my Facebook wall just last month? She tagged you.”
He shakes his head and looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I don’t do much with social media.”
“Well, I do. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m bigger than I was in high school, so all of your little cuts and insinuations still live up here,” I say, pointing to my head.
Clearly not in the forgive-and-forget mode, andfuck mefor thinking he needed a hug. My dick, as usual, still hasn’t caught up with the rest of the team.
Thing is… most days I feel pretty damned good about myself and how I maneuver in this world, but that shit with Eileen—who was always a bitch—was actually kind of humiliating. And that feels like a personal failure as much as anything. I mean, high school was a million years ago, so why does this shit still bother me?
“Oh god,” he says, looking like he’s going to be sick. “Oh, god. I’m so, so sorry.”
I’m sure he’s being sincere, but now I’m fucking agitated because I feel like I should be over it, but…argh. “Are you sorry because I still have to live with it, or because I don’t see you in a positive light?”
Roly’s beautiful brown skin goes blotchy, and he takes a moment to compose himself. “Both, if I’m being honest. Though, obviously, more because you’re still getting hurt by it.”
I balk at the idea that I’d let something like that hurt me, but… it’s not entirely inaccurate.
He continues. “If it’s possible, I’d still like to try to make amends. Think of me as your personal assistant. Here’s my number—whenever you need some shitty job done, just give me a call.”
I take his Wrecked business card with more vinegar than is totally necessary, then let a Grinch-like smile steal across my face. He really has no idea what he’s asking. I have three kids and four dogs; there are no shortage of shitty jobs in my house.
* * *
