That hurt.
“You think it’s easy for me?”
“Oh, I know it isn’t! Poor you, Amy—it must besohard, not beating the crap out of people…”
I lunge for him, freezing inches away from his face.
“It’s got nothing to do with that.”
“So help me understand.”
Okay, try this for size—I’m obsessed with you, and I’m trying to cling on to the only life raft I know before I get washed away.
I could just say that—the words are right there on the tip of my tongue. But I’d literally rather die. Instead, I decide to fumble for a sideswipe.
“I was doing it for RJ, okay? We aren’t all lucky enough to make money sitting on our asses in a car.”
“That’s exactly what you’ll be doing if you could just chill the fuck out. But if that’s too much for you, Amy, then just say it—say it, and all this can end here.”
Worry tugs at me. How many times are we going to keep having this conversation, before he loses his patience? The mist lifts, clearing to something much less familiar and harder to bear. Panic.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I start. “I’m trying to change, but it’s like taking a step into the dark. It’s like it holds up this light to everything I’m not, and that gets me all worked up, and I go looking for an outlet.”
“And that’s exactly why I gave you that track pass.”
I had forgotten all about that—not that he can ever know.
“They’re closed over vacation.”
“So, get creative.” He leans into me. “Find something else to do.”
“Like what?”
That was supposed to sound defiant. It came out like I’m a whiny little girl.
He frowns, like he’s suddenly understanding where I’m coming from, and lets out a sigh. You could cut the air between us with a knife. The muscles in his jaw twitch, his lips narrowing, and he’s so close, I could lower my mouth over his and kiss all that tension away for both of us, if only he…
“You drive me insane,” he says through gritted teeth.
Right back at you.
I don’t even need to look down. I can picture his fists clenched, the veins in his forearms pulsing.
“Why don’t you just talk to me about stuff, instead of running off to do something dumb?”
“I can handle myself—I don’t need anyone else to take care of my shit.”
“You know what pisses me off most, Amy?” he growls. “The moment I think I’ve got you back on track, you wriggle free.”
“Gee, sorry I’m not the kind of girl who gives up control,” I drawl. “I never pretended to be.”
The light in his eyes shifts. “You sure about that? Because you seemed okay with it back at that motel.”
I gasp.
In a flash, the anger on his face shifts into desire, and suddenly I’m back to wanting him again. The frequency has changed, and he’s wide open, willing and waiting—I know he is.
“You’re right. Iwasokay with it. And maybe that’s exactly what I need…”
