Is he jealous?No. Surely not.Feeling protective?Maybe.
After everything between yesterday and today, maybe he feels responsible for me. Maybe he thinks he needs to defend me now.
Ishouldbe grateful, but instead, I’m annoyed. I like talking to Nik. I like how easy it is. And Axel’s interruptions are driving me crazy.
The bell rings before I can say something.
We pack up our stuff, and Nik turns to me. “Can I get your number?”
The question sends a little thrill through me. I give it to him and tell him to text me so I have his, too.
Axel gets up and storms out of the classroom. I frown, but catch Nik smirking when I hand his phone back.
“Damn. He’s got it bad.”
“What?”
But, because Axel’s my ride, I’m already calling a quick bye to Nik and scrambling to catch up before he can clarify what he means.
Axel doesn’t say a word all the way to the car. Doesn’t speak on the drive home, either. He turns on music, but it does nothing to fill the silence. The tension between us is thick, the kind that makes your skin itch. And even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong, he somehow makes mefeellike I have.
As we’re pulling up to the house, my phone buzzes with a new message. I dig it out of my purse to read.
Unknown:Hey, cutie. Now you have my number. Feel free to use it;)
A smile sweeps across my face as I save the number to my contacts asNik.
Axel slams his car door shut, jolting me from my little dopamine high. He’s already stalking toward the house, his mood practically vibrating off him like a bad frequency.
That’s it. I’ve officially had it with his piss-poor attitude.
Climbing out of the car, I shout, “Hey! What’s your problem?”
He doesn’t answer. I sprint up the stairs, catching the front door just before it hits me in my face.
“Axel!” I warn, stepping inside.
He spins to face me. “What?”
Yep. He’s pissed.
I take a deep breath and lower my voice, trying to deescalate.
“You seem upset. Did I do something wrong?”
“Wrong?” he echoes with a bitter laugh. “Of course not,Lina.”
His tone and use of my real name, instead ofPrincess,say otherwise.
He paces back and forth, chaotic energy radiating off him. “God! Do you even know how desperate you looked, flirting with Nik? You know he only asked for your number because he felt sorry for you, right?”
His cruel words hit like a punch.
Was I acting desperate?
I quickly run through my interactions with Nik. He started the conversation. He kept it going. If he’d wanted space, I would’ve given it. It’s not like I was begging for his attention.
“I wasn’t acting desperate,” I say, keeping my voice even. “We were just talking and having fun. And for the record, he asked for my number. Not the other way around.”
