“I surf when I’m not getting laid by some hot beach chick, but the water was scummy tonight, so I’ve only been out here for a fewminutes.”
Mmm. “Yeah, not so shocked to hear that you’re the guy you accused Sterling ofbeing.”
“Why’s that?” He crosses his dark arms behind his head, waiting for myresponse.
“Well, you seem kind of easy,” I tell him.“Easy,” he repeats through a gravelly groan. “I think you have mewrong.”
“I think I have you right,” Iargue.
His eyes lock on mine, and the fluttering in my heart swoops down, down, down between my legs, making everything hurtinside.
“How was your date?” While his pinned glare hasn’t moved from my eyes, the mood has most definitelychanged.
“My date? It was cock-blocked.” Saying this is basically telling him he won. Why did Idothat?
“I wasn’t even there. How’s that possible?” The glow of his teeth shimmers under the moon’s glow, making his crooked grin look even more sinister than I’ve seen itbefore.
“Liam, your games have me worked up, but there’s aproblemhere.”
“And what’s that?” he asks, shifting his weight from one bare foot to theother.
“I’ve promised myself not to get involved with a man like you again.” I exhale loudly, frustrated with thetruth.
“A man like me?” hequestions.
“Hot men, you’re all just too into yourselves.” It sounds very discriminatory when I say it out loud. Maybe I should have kept my reason tomyself.
“Well, thank you for that honesty, but obviously, you’re going to have to give me a little more explanation for this interesting vow you’ve made. Are you saying I’m too intomyself?”
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a bit more insecure than I did a moment ago. “Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that most good-looking men aren’t into themselves more than the women they’re with?” Regardless of how uncomfortable this conversation is, I tell myself, whatever information I get from him will be great research for that booksomeday.
Liam takes a step closer, his gaze still hooked on mine. “First, I don’t date hot men, so I can’t answer your question. Second, I’m not some self-centered jerk. I like to play games with the people I like, and I protect the things that I love by fightingforthem.”
Fight for them.Protectthem?
Dylan.
This has always been about Dylan, and I thought he was using him as an excuse to be rudetome.
“So, then, what? You like me, but you think I’m going to hurt somethingyoulove?”
“You’re smarter than I’ve given you credit for,” he tells me as he takes another step closer. He reaches into a small pocket on his chest and the blinding lights covering his body go dark, taking some relief off my eyes. “Plus, I’ve written off women who live by self-absorbed rules and who have an issue with beautiful thingsinlife.”
“See,” I tell him, slapping my hands down against my legs. “You just called yourselfbeautiful.”
“No, I didn’t,” heargues.
“What beautiful things am I discriminating against then?” I ask, sounding as heated asIfeel.
“You are clearly against the essence of living second by second and taking every moment as a surprise rather than an assumption. You judge books by their covers. You read people without taking a deeper look, and you’re missing out on life because you’re avoiding whatscaresyou.”
Hearing everything he’s saying is giving me a closer look into what makes him who he is, and the only conclusion I can come up with is that— “You have a secret.” I don’t think I need to ask. I’m sure he has a reason for being the way he is because “It’s the only reason you’d act as moody asyoudo.”
“A secret,” he repeats, not as a question, but not as an answereither.
“Yes.”
“Maybe I do,” he kind ofagrees.
