“No.”
My hands gripped his jacket tighter.
“There you go again.”
His back hit the trunk of a tree before he seemed to realize he’d given ground, and I smiled. His leg was more fucked than he thought.
Interesting.
He wasn’t giving up.
He looked pissed that he’d moved at all.
“I saw a guy who could barely walk,” he said. “And I saw you leading him away from a crowded bar. You are a crazy fucking dog. And you came here to bury him. Because you’re a fucking freak.”
“Humans have free will. I didn’t lead anyone. He chose to follow. Must we keep going over this? It’s tiring”
“You weren’t stopping either. Goading and enticing. It’s like a fucking snake. What's in the cellar?”
“He wanted to talk somewhere quiet.”
“Bullshit.”
“You calling me a liar?”
“If the shoe fits.”
I smiled wide. “Careful, Pig.”
His eyes narrowed. “Or what?”
God, he was infuriating.
Every answer out of his mouth made me want to shove him again.
“Or I’ll show you what’s in the cellar personally and?—”
I cut the thought off before it finished and watched his eyes as they searched mine, almost like he’d caught the split second my expression changed.
“There it is,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You keep dropping your mask, Jailbait. Afraid I’ll see behind it?”
I scoffed. “Trust me, Pig, you’re the only one with a mask here tonight.”
His lips twitched, and he switched gears.
“You’ve been staring at me for weeks. Why haven’t you tried this little goose chase game with me? Too scared of rejection? Why look at me every Friday night?”
“I’ve been trying to decide if you’re always this annoying and pigheaded, but you’ve thoroughly answered that tonight.”
“Liar. Not so suave without your whore cheerleader, are you?”
His confidence should’ve irritated me.
Instead…
