His eyes are sharper than I expect, given how many drinks he’s had.
“Anytime I try to ‘protect you,’” he says, using air quotes, “you push me away.”
He’s not wrong. “That’s more about me than you.”
Scooting closer, he takes my hand. “Why do you do it?”
“Nope.” I shake my head to emphasis my words. “Not happening.” I can’t admit that to Jonah. It’s too humiliating. Ugh. Why did I drink so much?
“Please?” He moves so close he’s practically in my lap. Or rather, I’m practically in his.
“Not everything. But something.”
“Jonah…”
His jaw tightens. He’s angry. At me? “Your dad’s an asshole.”
I choke on nothing. Air? Spit? He’s not wrong. But the need to defend my father’s actions just pisses me off. “My father has his reasons.”
“Whatever. You wanted to deck those queens today.” He raises his eyebrows.
“That’s not a question,” I point out, just in case he’s too drunk to notice. “And they were mean to you.”
He frowns. Is he remembering their words? All I did was snap at them. I wanted to grab them by their wigs and smash their heads together.
He studies my face and smiles. “You were fierce. But I did have a question… Oh yeah. Why is it okay for you to protect me, but if I try to stand up for you, you get all pissy about it?”
“I don’t get pissy.” It’s the wrong thing to say, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“Your first day at school, Benson was bullying you. I told him to stop. And you…you yelled at me. Told me to fuck off.”
“I don’t need you to protect—” Shit. He’s right. To an extent. “It’s not the same, Jonah.”
“Why? All I need is a why.”
I down my drink and slam the glass on the nightstand. I don’t want to talk about this. But I know he won’t leave it alone. “Needing help makes me weak.”
His mouth drops open. And it would be comical if my heart wasn’t pounding so hard. If my shame wasn’t laid open for Jonah to see. I might as well sleep in the van. I shift to get up, but he grabs my arm. “Vivian, wait. Do you think I’m weak?”
I snort. “Of course not.” Am I missing something— Oh, right. “I told you. It’s not the same thing.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” And for some reason, his agreement hurts. “No one thinks I need help. Ever. But it’s nice when someone cares enough to try. But you… Your dad is an asshole.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jonah?—”
He pulls me closer and cradles my face in his hands. His thumb gently traces the bruise on my cheek. “I don’t know what bullshit your dad has shoveled your way, but I know for a fact that he’s wrong.”
“How can you know that?” I ask in a soft voice, afraid to hear the answer and equally afraid he won’t tell me. His vanilla scent wraps around me, making it difficult to think.
“You’re hands down the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t really know who I am—” The softness in his gaze stops my words and the heat underneath sets me ablaze.
His hand threads through my hair, pulling me closer as his gaze drops to my mouth. “I want to know.”
Fuuuck.I shut my brain down and crash our mouths together. Kissing Jonah sets me free.
The relief at tasting him again is intense. The rum on his firm lips. The whimper that escapes his greedy mouth.
