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“But he could’ve talked to me about this.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to say anything he’d regret.”

Her words give me pause. “Since when did you become a relationship expert?”

She laughs. “Since I was forced into home-school and became a rom-com addict.”

I smile. “So, you’ve seen this situation in movies?”

“I just wouldn’t call it dire.”

“He thinks I play into my mother’s games too much. Plus, I’m too pushy and controlling.”

“You’re just passionate.”

A hearty laugh pours out of me. “Well, that’s diplomatic. I’d hardly describe the way I act as passionate. I can be petty and impulsive when it comes to my image.” I suck in a breath. “You know better than anyone. I was horrible to you in high school, and somehow, you forgave me.”

“Because you’re my friend and your mother turned you into a psycho.”

I grin. “Thanks for dropping the diplomacy.”

“Being out of the high school drama has made me more honest.” She sighs. “It also gives me almost zero options of ever getting a boyfriend again.”

I clasp her hands. “You deserve love. I swear, if I ever meet a real-deal prince, I’ll be setting you up.”

Meghan giggles, highlighting her freckles. “That would certainly clear the sins of the past.”

Meghan and I dawdle around the country club grounds, only returning inside when the dining room has officially closed. Without any more excuses, Mom relents and allows Roger to take us home.

I debate going inside the manor and taking a long soak in the tub, but I don’t want to risk missing Dax. Inside the pool house, I pace the plush rug, torturously waiting for his return.

I’ve texted him three more times. I know I shouldn’t be that girl, but I hate not having contact with him. Plus, if he’s anywhere near his brother, he could be in danger.

I sweep my hands under my hair and rub them against the back of my clammy neck.

I can’t stand around here waiting. What if he’s unconscious somewhere? What if he’s come off his motorcycle and his phone is completely shattered?

I turn toward the front glass door just as I hear it slide open.

My chest lifts and my shoulders relax at the sight of Dax entering the pool house.

“Oh my gosh, Dax.” I gasp, clasping the sides of my face. “Thank goodness you’re back.”

He slides the door behind him and walks toward me.

“I was about to get a car and search for you,” I say, throwing my arms around him. “I was worried you weren’t coming back.”

He doesn’t embrace me as intensely as I do him. One of his hands presses on the middle of my back and his other arm flops by his side.

I lift on my toes, meeting his eyes. “Dax?”

As I lean into him, a whiff of something smoky hits my nostrils. I lower onto my heels, running my hands down his leather jacket as the remnants of recently smoked cigarettes assault my senses.

I frown as my eyes prickle with building tears. “You smoked?”

His stare hardens, emphasizing every bloodshot streak. “I can’t break an eight-year habit overnight.”

There’s a lump in my throat. “But you had started wearing the patches.”