Page 69 of Villainous Summer

He shook his head. “You can believe whatever you want. I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t had a girlfriend in over a decade.”

My hand stilled on the glass halfway between the arm of the chair and my mouth before I set it on the table with a clink. “What do you mean you haven’t had a girlfriend in a decade?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what I said. I told you I don’t have girlfriends or serious relationships.”

I frowned. “So, then, what is this?”

He furrowed a brow and looked at me. “This is new to me.”

“Well, I do boyfriends, and I have to tell you, it’s been a long time since someone wined me and dined me like this. Most guys don’t even try anymore. Of course, I seemed to be in the habit of falling for douchebags, so there we go.” I snorted, shaking my head. “You know, maybe I need to find some nice guy and settle for him.”

“You don’t want a nice guy,” Van scoffed. “The damage you would do to a nice guy.”

“Okay, asshole.” Leaning back in my chair, I glared at him. “Way to make me feel shitty.”

“Nothing I’m saying is news, Summer. You aren’t nice. Nice is telling people what they want to hear. It’s apologizing when it’s not your fault. What you are is kind. I hear the way you talk about your friends. You’re loyal. You defend them. You deserve someone who knows the difference.” He ran a hand over his hair, making the front poof up. “I won’t be a nice guy for you. But I’ll tell you the truth. I’ll call you out when you need and expect you to do the same. And I will always put you first. You deserve someone who will do right by you.”

“Oh.”

The word settled on my lips, a prickle expanding across my skin at his words.

They weren’t soft reverence, far from the flowery language of my favorite novels nor the swelling music over the third act in a movie. A harshness had crept into them, a razor edge I recognized in myself.

With Cory, with all my previous lovers, it was words and little else. This was recognition, a mirror of who I am and what I should’ve expected of others.

What was I supposed to do with that?

Autumn used to tell me, To be seen is to be loved. But I’d never been seen like this before. Maybe most women would’ve been happy, but that kind of recognition? I wasn’t sure I liked it. If he saw me, truly saw me, he wouldn’t stick around. He wouldn’t want me.

Van leaned forward in his chair, fingers on his chin. “Do you wanna talk about your ex?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t wanna talk about them. I don’t wanna think about them.”

He didn’t react to the harsh words.

“Okay, then.” He nodded and smiled. Reaching forward, he grabbed my hand, pulling me toward him. “Come over here.”

I resisted, my mind still whirling from his confession that stung my ego and formed a fissure in my chest, which seeped emotions manifested from a bad idea. Emotions like wanting him to care for me, wanting to trust in him.

He pulled my hand harder, and I slid over to him. When I was close enough, he wrapped his arms around my waist and scooted me onto his lap. One arm on my back, the other cupping my chin to face him. “You are fiercely beautiful.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Truly.”

Truly. Such a simple word. Not a declaration but a fidelity just the same.

“This is getting tricky. I’m not supposed to want more from you,” I admitted. “It was never meant to be real for either of us.”

“Why are you complicating this, Summer?”

I huffed out a laugh.

Why was I? I wanted to sleep with him. Judging by the immense ridge digging into my left butt cheek, he wanted the same. That nagging voice in the back of my mind faded as he drew a circle on my exposed knee with his fingers. Then a heart, then a star, then a spiral, then the long stem of a flower, moving under my dress.

“Can we just be? For tonight, no labels.”

“But—” Why was I doing this to myself? “This was fake.”

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