Or maybe I want to cry on his shoulder because I thought Rhys was so great, yet when I kissed him…
My shoulders slump and I pause on the sidewalk to take off Nix’s shoes. They’ve been torturing my feet ever since I slipped them back on.
Padding along in my bare feet, I try not to think about how dirty the concrete is and instead focus on why I feel so compelled to see Tyrell “Grumpy Ass” Jackson.
Maybe I just want to sit on a bench beside him and shoot the breeze like we’ve done after other dates.
Or maybe I just want the comfort of being with someone who’s known me since I was fourteen. Someone who knows Atlas.
Shit. I have no idea which reason is making me plunk my butt down on this cold red bench.
The emotions inside me are a torrent—a hurricane—of angst, and I don’t know whether to feel relief, agitation, or this weird pulse of something I don’t want to identify when Tyrell jumps out of his SUV and starts striding toward me.
CHAPTER 22
TYRELL
She pops to her feet as soon as she sees me coming, and I’m relieved she’s taken those heels off. I could tell they were hurting her feet when she reluctantly slipped them back on under the table.
Shit. She looks pissed.
And I deserve it.
I was a total dick tonight. But how do I explain my behavior?
The idea of trying to justify myself forms a quick rock in my throat. It’s impossible to swallow down, and my steps slow the closer I get to her.
Shit, this is bad.
Do I play it cool?
Pretend like nothing was off tonight?
“Hey.” I try to smile at her the second I’m within range and figure that yeah, playing it cool is definitely the safest option.
“Hey.” She spits out the word, all short and clipped and…
Shit, shit, shit.
I messed up tonight.
So fix it!
“Rhys seems like a nice guy.” Those idiot words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and it’s instant regret.
Her eyebrows pucker, her frown deepening and…
Oh fuck. Please don’t cry.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly blurt. “I didn’t mean to be a douche. I don’t even know why I was acting like a grumpy asshole.”
Yes, you do. Just tell her!
I clear my throat. “And?—”
“Shut up.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms and sniffing. “I don’t get it.”
I’m not sure exactly what she means, so I bite my lips together and wait her out.
