“Add that to my tab,” I say, knowing it’s for the old dude at the end of the bar.
She nods, handing it to Tommy. He lifts the bottle in the air in a show of gratitude, and I smile at him. Best buddies now. Perhaps he can help with Presley. She seems fond of him, and he’s definitely got a soft spot for her.
“What deal?” I ask when she returns.
“You answer one of my questions, and I’ll answer yours.” I don’t point out that I’ve already answered several of her questions though I’m tempted, ’cause I like winding her up. She’s hot as fuck when she’s irritated.
“Shoot.” I take a sip of my soda, waiting for her to hit me with it.
“Why law?” Her eyes drop to the books on the counter, and I know she overheard my conversation with Blondie.
I could give her a bullshit answer, but something tells me this girl would see right through it, so I go with part of the truth. “Because I want to do good in the world. I want to be known for more than my family name. I want to fight for justice. To battle on behalf of people who might otherwise be overlooked.” I can’t give her more because it’s too close to home, even though what I’ve just said probably sounds like something a thousand other law students would say.
She stares at me, and a frisson of electricity crackles in the space between us. These tiny little gold specks flicker in her warm brown eyes as she looks at me like she can’t figure me out.
Join the club, babe.
“It’s my art portfolio,” she admits after a few heavy beats of silence. “I attend an art class once a week at the local community college.”
“Can I see?”
She shakes her head. “You have to earn that right.”
“Go out with me,” I repeat as I have intermittently all night.
“No.” She dumps all over me again, but it only strengthens my resolve. Girls don’t reject me, and her attitude excites me. It’s not often I’m challenged these days, and I’m getting off on the thrill of the chase. If she genuinely doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, she’d be better off agreeing to the dinner date because her stubborn streak means I’m definitely invested in seeing where this could go.
My cell pings with an incoming call, and I break our eye lock to find out who’s calling me, groaning when I see Whitney’s purple-haired image staring at me from the screen. I hit the ignore button, sighing.
I don’t know what to do about Faye’s half-sister.
Faye is married to my older brother Kyler. She’s also my cousin. It’s complicated as shit—even more so because Whitney and I have been fuck buddies, on and off, from the time we met when I was fifteen. If the timing had been different, maybe we never would’ve hooked up, but we’ve been trapped in this vicious cycle ever since, and I want out.
I managed to break all ties, and I didn’t screw her for over a year, but every time life drops a bomb in my lap, I seem to end up back in her bed.
We’re not good for one another.
We’re too alike, and we’re toxic together.
She knows it. I know it.
And it’s not like we’ve ever been boyfriend-girlfriend or been exclusive.
If I’m a manwhore, Whitney is a slut, but she has feelings for me, feelings I don’t share, and it’s why I need to cut her loose. For good this time.
If I was going to confide in anyone, it probably would’ve been Whit. The fact I haven’t speaks volumes. While I don’t love her, I care about her, and I don’t want to hurt her. She’s broken, just like me, and all we are doing is enabling one another, excusing the behavior like it’s normal when we’re intelligent enough to understand it isn’t.
She deserves better than me, and I’m trying to do the right thing by her now. I fucked her two weeks ago when I was up in New York, and I told her that was the last time. That we are over for good. We had a massive argument, and she’s been blowing up my cell ever since. I’d block her number if I thought it would do any good, but Whit’s resourceful. She’d just get a new phone, and it’s not like I can avoid her. She’s part of my extended family because Adam—her and Faye’s dad—is close friends with my parents, and Mom always invites him and his kids to family events. Whether I like it or not, Whitney will always be a part of my family, and I have to find a way of making it work that doesn’t involve drilling my cock in her pussy.
“Is everything okay?” Presley asks, bringing me back into the moment.
“Yep.” I gather up my things. I want to call Whitney back but without prying ears. Also, it’s late, and I have an early morning class. “I’ve got to go.”
“Giving up so soon,” she teases, her eyes lighting with mischief, and I’m transfixed. It’s like this girl has cast a spell on me.
I pin her with my infamous panty-melting smile. “Not a chance in hell, Presley baby. I’m only getting warmed up,” I say, as the blue-haired waitress slides behind the bar, knocking against a crate of bottles on the floor. Glass rattles and screeches, the sound piercing my skull, and I’m transported back in time.
Imaginary pain tears the skin off my left cheek, and I grab the counter, squeezing my eyes shut, as the sound of jangling glass reverberates in my ears. Tightness spreads across my chest, and my breath oozes out in strangled spurts as I struggle to get enough air into my lungs. On some level, I’m aware I’m in public, so I don’t totally lose it, keeping my back to the main floor as I silently decompose on the inside.
