I glanced back. She was sitting up now, looking at me kinda sheepishly or something.
“I want to apologize for how I acted the other day,” she said softly. “When I… you know. When we were out by the pool—”
“You mean when you shoved your tits in my face,” I said bluntly.
“Yeah. That. Sorry about that. It’s just, you know…” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “Peer pressure and stuff.”
Bullshit. I wasn’t even sure what she meant by that—peer pressure?—but it was bullshit.
“It’s fine,” I said, even though it wasn’t, really. I let her off the hook, though, like I believed her.
She looked at me then… with a soft, needy look that went straight to my cock.
Because apparently, she hated me that much.
She gazed at me like that, for a long moment, like she was waiting for something. Like she was looking to me to make it better.
To makewhatbetter, I couldn’t say.
But it was all an act anyway.
She’s fucking with you.
Don’t fall for it.
“Just… stay away from me, okay?” I said.
Then I turned and walked out the door.
How many times was I gonna have to tell her to stay the hell away from me?
When was she gonna actually listen?
And when was I gonna fucking cave and do something so wrong, I knew it would feel so fucking good… Until I woke up the next morning and regretted the shit out of it.
Fuck.I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t keep avoiding her.
I’d fuckingtry. But I knew I was gonna fail.
At some point, sooner or later, I was gonna fucking fail.
And failhard.
If Courteney’s plan was to keep putting herself in my path so I’d eventually break down and put my hands on her… we were both in a world of fucking trouble.
Chapter Nine
Xander
On Saturday night, I went out to the Pandora Ballroom, where DJ Summer was headlining a show. She’d invited me, so I was on her guest list, and I brought Lucas with me.
My buddy Lucas was also part of Trey’s crew, a regular at this MMA gym Trey co-owned in East Vancouver, where I sometimes worked out; one of many big, athletic dudes who played bodyguard for Trey, or for me, when I needed a little extra muscle to make sure the fangirls behaved themselves.
I really wasn’t in the mood to get swarmed tonight.
We met Jordan just outside the Pandora. And as soon as she saw me, she could tell something was up. We talked pretty much every day in some form—text, FaceTime, whatever. And by now, she had to have noticed the way my mood had been trending since I’d come off tour.
