Her laughter travels in my direction again. I hate the gleam in theMullet’s eyes every time Blake laughs. I’m a man, so I know what he’s thinking: What are my odds of going home with her?
Zero, pal.
Maybe I should just fuck her.
I let the idea percolate. Sex always has a way of squashing a crush. For me at least. I know from experience that all it takes is one night for me to get my endorphin rush and be on my way.
Who knows? The sex might not even be that good, right? Maybe these past few years of lusting from afar have built this up into something that can never live up to my jerk-off fantasies. Hell, and it’s presumptuous to think she’d even let me in her pants. She’s got better taste than that.
At the bar, the Mullet makes her giggle by tugging on a strand of her hair.
He’s touching her goddamn hair now?
Oh hell no.
This isn’t jealousy, I assure myself. It’s responsibility. She’s fresh out of a relationship and she’s vulnerable. She doesn’t know what she wants right now. But I guarantee it’s not the douchebag with the mullet.
I cross the bar in three long strides, sliding in beside her.
Blake turns in surprise. “Hey.”
“It’s late,” I say coldly. “We’re leaving.”
The Mullet interjects. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
I spare him a look. “She’s done talking.”
Frowning, the guy glances at Blake. “Is this your boyfriend or your bodyguard?”
She huffs out a laugh. “Neither.”
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
Our gazes lock, and whatever she sees on my face has hercapitulating.
“Sorry,” she tells the Mullet. “I guess we’re leaving.”
Without another word, she grabs her purse off the stool and follows me out of the bar. It isn’t until we’re halfway across the parking lot that she stops in her tracks.
“What happened back there, Wyatt?”
I continue walking toward the Jeep. “Nothing. I wanted to go.”
“Were you jealous?”
The accusation stings my back. I stop, waiting for her to catch up to me. “I don’t get jealous.”
“Everyone gets jealous,” Blake says irritably. “And honestly, you’re kind of acting like it right now.”
“I have no reason to be jealous of anyone tonight, Logan.”
“Right. Silly me.” Her lips curl. “I guess this is just your celibacy plan making you act like a dickhead again?”
“Yes,” I say lightly. “That’s all it is, freckles.”
I pretend not to see the hurt that clouds her expression. Same way I pretended not to see it when she was sixteen, confessing her crush, and I patted her head like she was a toddler. Or the way I pretended not to see it the morning after I almost fucked her on Christmas Eve and played dumb.
I still believe I was doing the right thing in both instances, but the pain in her eyes has stayed with me. Haunted me.
