I frown. Why can’t I be like that? Jack would probably push me off.
Ugh. I’m chasing a guy who clearly doesn’t like me. He tolerates me. It’s not easy like it is for this Claire-girl.
I grimace, realizing how much work I put in just to getting Jack here, with me, and another girl got his attention effortlessly.
My shoulders slump as my excitement is zapped away. Even though I am curious what the world is like outside church walls, I should leave.
I slip away and find Ingrid, who talks to people, laughing.
As soon as I join their circle, a man hands me a beer.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Only wine,” says Jack, who appears behind me. “Cause it’s Jesus’ blood, so that’s okay. Churches don’t exist without hypocrisy.”
I whirl around and give him stunned eyes. I whisper-panic, “Shh, nobody can know who I am.”
He rolls his eyes. “Trust me, nobody here knows your name.” Then lower. “Don’t disappear again. Not wearing that slutty outfit.”
My skin burns hot, and I scoff. “Why do you care? You were busy with that girl.” I fold my arms and leer.
The glint in his eyes is telling.
He isn’t happy, either.
Chapter 16
Morgan
Another man steps forward.
“How about a water?” he says and hands me a bottle.
Jack snatches it and tosses it back. “I’ll buy her a water.” He grips my arm and leads me away. I stumble to keep up, but he doesn’t slow. Just scolds me. “Don’t accept drinks from men you don’t know.”
“I’m not stupid, Jack. I wouldn’t have accepted it if the cap was broken. Besides, this isn’t a bar.”
“You’re dressed like it is.”
I scoff once more, incredulous, then jerk free from his grip.
“I get it! Ha. Ha. Laugh at me. I’m a naïve Christian girl who hasn’t been to places like this.” I draw in a long breath to calm myself. “And maybe I shouldn’t have worn this dress, but I think I look pretty. The color is the same red as your tattoos. I thought you’d like that.”
“You wanted to match?” he says, disgusted.
His expression stabs. Nothing I say or do softens him. I sigh in defeat and glance around at the clusters of people and cars. The golden glow of streetlights should soothe, but it only depresses.
In a deadened tone, I say, “I shouldn’t be here. I’m leaving, but I’ll talk to my dad about your brother. You don’t have totolerateme anymore.”
“For fuck sakes,” he grumbles, then shakes his head. “Don’t be dramatic.”
I step away, but he snatches my wrist and yanks me toward him.
“Jack!”
He brings my back flush with his front and cages me in his arms. It isn’t tight, nor is it gentle.
“You’re right, Morgan. You shouldn’t be here.” His head lowers, and his cheek brushes mine. “Why are you? Because every time I try to figure you out, I feel like the naïve one.”
