Love Song(69)

“It’s not messy,” she protests. “Wyatt’s just a friend. A controlling asshole friend.”

“Yeah, that’s messy,” Dave says dryly. He steps sideways between me and Blake as we continue to face off. “It was really nice meeting you, Blake. But, uh, yeah, I think I can let myself out.”

We hear his footsteps on the stairs and then the main floor before the front door closes louder than necessary. Dude’s not happy leaving here with blue balls. Too bad, so sad.

Blake and I barely notice he’s gone. Our eyes never leave each other’s. Her cheeks are bright red, her hostility thickening the air.

“I cannot believe you did that. You had no right.”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me for it in the morning.”

“Oh, fuck off, you condescending prick!”

I don’t even flinch. “Your parents would kill me if they knew I let that happen while I was down the hall. That I just sat by while you sucked off some stranger you’ve known for five minutes. Is that what you wanted? To suck his dick? To let him come in your mouth while I’m in the next goddamn room?”

She releases out a harsh laugh. “What does that have to do with my parents? Let me worry about my own parents, how about that? And you can worry about yours.”

“I get that Isaac bruised your ego—”

“Oh my God!”

“But this isn’t you,” I finish. “You don’t have random hookups with guys you barely know.”

“You don’t know me at all,” Blake says angrily.

“Yes, I do, and this isn’t who you are. It’s who I am. I’m the fuckboy. I’m the one who sleeps with half the lake, remember?”

“First of all,” she snaps, “I think we can be done with you telling me you’re a fuckboy, considering you haven’t had sex once since I got here despite numerous opportunities. And you don’t know me, Wyatt. Clearly you don’t. Because I’m not just a good girl with freckles. I am a whole-ass complex woman who might want to hook up with a guy I’ve only known for two hours. Did you ever think about that? Did you ever think maybe that makes me feel desirable?”

“Your self-worth shouldn’t be determined by validation from a man—”

She cuts me off again. “Save the self-help quotes for someone who gives a shit. I have agency. I know what I want, and I know what I wanted tonight. I wanted him. And you had to storm in like some overgrown guard dog and ruin my night.”

“I was doing you a favor.”

“You humiliated me! You humiliated Dave. You weren’t doing anyone a favor. You just wanted to play alpha male and throw a temper tantrum.”

I clench my fists against my sides. “I was trying to look out for you. You would’ve regretted it.”

Her laughter is dripping with incredulity. “You don’t get to tell me what I will or won’t regret. Are you listening to yourself?”

“You and I kissed last night,” I say roughly while my heart beats wildly in my chest. I can’t temper my emotions when I’m around this woman. “You expect me to believe that in less than twenty-four hours, you suddenly decided you want someone else?”

Her eyes narrow. “So that’s what this is. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. You don’t like the idea that I might be attracted to someone who isn’t you.”

My jaw twitches. “No, that’s not what this is.”

“Yes, it is. You couldn’t stand the thought of me being with someone else tonight. Just admit it. That’s why you burst in and broke it up. Because you were jealous. Because that kiss affected you as much as it affected me.”

I grind my teeth, determined not to take the bait. That’s what she wants. She wants me to give in. To throw her up against the wall and kiss her again.

And to not stop at kissing this time.

“Fine. Whatever.” I let out a frustrated breath. “There’s obviously nothing left to talk about tonight. And I need a fucking cigarette.”





Chapter 24


BLAKE





IT TAKES NEARLY FIFTEEN MINUTES to calm myself down. I spend that time pacing my bedroom, reminding myself that strangling him to death wouldn’t be in my best interests. I wouldn’t enjoy prison at all. And although tonight’s humiliation still boils in my blood, there’s also a surge of satisfaction.

Because I saw it.

The crack in his armor.

He was jealous tonight, and men only get jealous when they genuinely feel something for you. I sensed it when he kissed me, but tonight only cemented it. He can make as many excuses as he likes, but it’s clear to me now. Wyatt cares about me a lot more than he lets on.

This isn’t who you are. It’s who I am.

His words keep buzzing in my head. I don’t get it. Why is he so devoted to this man-whore story he’s written about himself? What does he think will happen if he admits he might actually care about someone?

As the last of my anger melts away, I pull a sweater over my head and leave the bedroom.

I find him on a lounge chair, fingers gripping a cigarette, eyes on the moon. It’s surprisingly quiet outside. Usually, you’d hear the buzz of mosquitoes, but right now everything is still and silent other than the occasional rustling of trees.