You don’t owe him anything except passing the interview.
You’ve got this.
Head held up high, I entered my apartment, left my keys, phone, and earbuds on the console, and walked straight toward the shower.
Angelo was sitting on the sofa, his guitar in its usual place in his lap, like it was a part of him.
Don’t look at him. Like sugar and ice cream, he’s appetizing and might provide instant gratification, but it’s bad for you.
He got up and followed me. “I don’t believe anything you said.”
I stopped midway to the bathroom. “Doesn’t matter. This whole thing is fake, anyway. We have an interview soon, we know enough to pass it, and that’s all we need from each other.”Even breaths, you’re doing well.
“It’s not about the interview. It’s about you and me.”
“There is no you and me.” I held his gaze for as much as I could then turned and began to walk away.
Angelo grabbed my elbow and stopped me, pulling me back to him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you behaving like this?” He let go of my arm but took a step closer, looking down, right into my face. “I know you don’t like me, didn’t choose me, but why today? Why like this?” Blue-gray danger flashed in his eyes that moved between mine, searching for the answer I couldn’t give him with my mouth.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t argue when he was standing this close and looking at me like that. His scent filled me, the heat from his body dazed me, the anger in his eyes hurt me. My heart raced faster than it had when I’d jogged.
I scorned myself for my weakness.
“What did I do to you?” he demanded. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The tendons in his neck tightened. My eyes were drawn to the line of ink visible from the tattoo on his nape.
Maybe the question should be: what didIdo to turn this aloof, calm, funny, charming guy into a livid gunpowder?
“Nothing. I just want this to be over,” I half-mumbled without looking directly at him.
“That bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I thought we—”
“We, nothing, Angleo,” I cut him off. “We’re nothing.”
Like a dart hitting the center mark, I saw my words doing the same by the almost imperceptible wince of his eyes.
I couldn’t hold his gaze, so instead, my eyes dropped to his chest, his tattooed arms. I whipped them back up.
“Okay.” Angelo licked his bottom lip then gnawed on it.
My eyes refused the command to not drop to his mouth.
I must have lingered on it too long, though, because when I raised my gaze back to his, there was a new glint in his eyes and the hint of a smirk formed on his lips. They confirmed that he didn’t just notice it but could now read the rest in my eyes.
I swallowed. “Why don’t you go for one of your walks or go downstairs to play your guitar?” I said as calmly as I could.
“That’s what you really want, June? For this to be over? For me to go? Down there?” The way his eyes clouded and his gaze trailed down my body then back up while his voice dropped to a husky near-groan left no room for interpretation about where he thought I wanted him to go down to. He plainly saw what I’d been trying to hide, ignore, fight.
He could see that I wanted him. Against every shred of sense, every lesson learned, every principle or rule, or goddamn list that I had.
“Angelo, I’m serious.”
“So am I. And you always are. That’s the problem.”
“It’s notyourproblem.”
