My gaze snaps to his, a smirk coating his lips, a question on mine.
“How did?—”
“Hollister told me.”
I nod, not liking Holli spreading my business like a gossipy bitch, even if Dom is a close friend.
“Who said anything about a chase?”
“Don’t get your balls in a bunch. He just mentioned it.” He shrugs a shoulder with indifference as if absolving himself of the burden of my feelings. “And you did, by the way. You’re talking about her to Hollister.”
I don’t reply.
The memory of Rossi’s sharp gaze and that pink flash of leather intertwine in my mind. I sit there, staring at the flames as the noise of the party fades into the background. My thoughts circle like a dog chasing its tail. Because Dom’s right, both women are impossible, but damned if I can stop wanting them both.
He stretches his legs out and lets the firelight dance across his boots. He’s watching me. His expression is unreadable but knowing, like he’s already figured out where this is headed before I have.
“Not going to tell me?” His voice is casual but probing, opposite his usual demeanor. “That’s never a good sign.”
I take a long swig of my beer, letting the cool bitterness wash down the lump in my throat and setting the bottle beside me.
“Just thinking.”
“Thinking?” he echoes, a hum rumbling under his breath. “About the professor? Or the biker?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. I’m just fascinated by how you’re managing to juggle both in your brain without combusting. It’s impressive, in a self-destructive kind of way.”
I roll my eyes, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.
“It’s not like that.”
The words feel hollow even as I say them. Hating the truth that both have consumed me to the point that I don’t know what to do, and it’s making me bitchy.
“I’m not juggling anything.”
Dom chuckles, low and quiet.
“You’re juggling, alright. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
I shoot him a look, but he doesn’t back down. His calm confidence grates on me, mostly because he’s usually right.
“They’re different,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Professor Rossi. She’s sharp. Controlled. She doesn’t take any shit. Least of all mine. She doesn’t care who I am or who my family is. And flirting with her, well shit, that gets me bounced from her class. And the biker…” I trail off, the memory of the pink leathers and her reckless speed flashing in my mind. “She’s wild. Free. Fuck, it’s like?—”
“Two sides of the same coin?” Dom finishes, his tone laced with amusement.
“Maybe.” I glance back at the flames, the tension in my chest tightening. “Or maybe I’m just fucked up enough to want what I can’t have.”
Dom hums again, but thoughtfully this time. He suddenly tosses a rock out of nowhere into the fire pit, and I watch it spark against the flames.
“You’ve always been like that, man. Chasing the unattainable. The thrill of it. You love climbing the mountain more than the view at the top.”
“I’m tired of climbing,” I mutter, more to myself than him.
“Bullshit. You live for the climb. It’s why you’re hung up on your professor,” he says with far too much conviction, launching another rock into the flames. “And the biker? She’s just another peak to conquer. You think either of them will be worth it once you reach the top?”
Would they be worth it?
