Page 79 of People Like Us

I whipped toward him so fast my hair stuck to my lip gloss. “So what? You think the Kens are disgusting when they talk about girls like that, but it’s fine when your friends do it?”

His brows pulled together. “That’s not what I said.”

I practically pushed Angelica to the floor as I climbed out of the booth. The room suddenly felt too hot. Too close. My skin buzzing unpleasantly beneath my T-shirt and denim skirt.

“Lola—”

The crowd swallowed me, bodies bumping my shoulders as I pushed through it. Somebody nearly spilled soda down my arm as I shoved toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” August called after me.

“Home.”

“How?” he asked once we hit the hallway near the bathrooms. “Your car’s at my place.”

I laughed wildly without slowing down. “Guess I’ll call my boyfriend.”

That actually made him laugh once under his breath.

“Yeah, that’ll go over real well.” His voice sharpened into mocking sweetness. “‘Hey babe, can you come get me? I’m at The Inn with the guy you fucking hate.’”

I spun on him so fast he nearly walked into me.

“He doesn’t hate you.” I said harshly.

August just looked at me, deeply unconvinced. The expression irritated me so badly I turned away again. But his hand wrapped around my arm—not rough, August was never rough—just enough pressure to stop me moving.

“Would you knock it off,” he said quietly, “and tell me what you’re actually upset about?”

Somewhere behind us the crowd erupted into screams as the band started another song. August’s fingers stayed warm around my arm while I stared up at him trying to untangle feelings I didn’t fully understand myself.

Finally, the truth ripped out before pride could stop it.

“Why is it,” I asked accusatory, “that every time we touch, you spend the next few days acting like you regret it?”

Something in his face cracked. He exhaled heavily through his nose before jerking his chin toward the side exit. “Come outside.”

The alley behind the club was damp from rain. Water dripped steadily from a rusted gutter overhead while cigarette smoke lingered stale against the brick walls. The cold air cooled my flushed skin immediately, though my chest still felt too tight.

August shoved both hands into his jacket pockets and paced once before looking at me again.

“We’re in public, Lola.” His voice came quieter out here. “I didn’t think you’d want me touching you like that here.”

I frowned. “Your friends know we’re hooking up. Angelica literally called us lovebirds.”

“I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with it.”

I stared at him then, and suddenly I realized he looked nervous. Afraid, even.

“You barely spoke to me at school yesterday,” I said softly now. “And you didn’t invite me over for DND last night either.” My throat tightened around the next question. “Do you regret it?”

His expression twisted instantly. “No.” The answer came too fast to fake. “God, no.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked away from me completely then, jaw flexing hard.

“Lola…” He swallowed. “I have OCD.”