“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?”
“Not like this!”
He pushes up on his arms, lifting away from me, his smoldering eyes lingering down the length of my body. A shiver ripples through me under the weight of his gaze, but I don’t have time to linger on the unease blooming in my chest. Lane jumps to his feet and falls back seated on the edge of his bed, his eyes never leaving mine. He holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him pull me up. I keep hold of his fingers, and his gaze. Whatever it takes, I plan on getting to the truth. And he knows it.
“I didn’t know you were planning on picking me up,” I start, soft but deliberate, a quiet invitation.
“I didn’t know your instructor was the kind of guy to drive a student home.”
“I don’t see how that’s your problem, or any of your business, come to think of it.”
I didn’t say it aggressively, but Lane looks taken aback. He drops my hand and makes to reply, but changes his mind. Why is he so annoying?
“Why didn’t you call me?” he blurts out.
“When you let me stay on your couch, I promised I wouldn’t be a pain in the ass.”
“Gimme a break—we’re past that, and you know it.”
“I’m a big girl,” I offer, somewhat embarrassed.
“I’m not saying you’re not. I’m saying getting on a bike with a guy you barely know is stupidly dangerous.”
“Ethan is a nice guy—what’s your deal with him?”
“How can you be so fucking unaware?”
I don’t get why he’s being like this. Okay, so we’re not at each other’s throats every five minutes anymore, but still: it’s not like we’re friends or anything. Suddenly, it clicks.
“Wait a minute,” I gasp. “Are you actually saying you care about me?”
I’m stunned, and he looks just as shell-shocked.
“We’ve been living together for two months now,” he offers, like that explains it all.
“So?”
“So it makes sense that I’m looking out for you.”
“That would be kind of sweet, if it weren’t so controlling.”
“Controlling?”
“Any other rules involved in you ‘looking out for me’?”
He drifts off, lost in thought, and I have to snap my fingers in front of his face to bring him back to the present.
“As long as you live here, no more bikes,” he says darkly.
I definitely wasn’t expecting that. He sounds so ominous.
“What’s with the motorbike thing?” I’m not sure why I’m whispering.
He tenses up, and I watch as he recoils, like a snail shrinking back into his shell. I wait a few moments, but I can tell I won’t be getting anything more out of him.
I stand up and stalk out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
