Page 68 of The Most Perfect Wrong

We laugh, we banter, and I can’t help but flirt with him—it’s just too much fun. I feel good when I’m around him, better than I’ve felt in a long time. And as much as I hate to admit it, he’s become a good friend—one of my closest friends.

I’ve only ever confided in Casey, but I find myself sharing more and more with Ryan. It’s nice. I haven’t had anyone else in years. Brad doesn’t like me spending time with other people—he always has some excuse, some way to make it feel like I’m doing something wrong. And when I did try to open up to my old friends, they were relentless, constantly pointing out all the things I couldn’t bring myself to see.

Eventually, I stopped trying. It was easier to let the friendships fade than to keep defending something I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. That’s why it’s easy to have my tennis friends. We just play tennis—no deep talking, no uncomfortable questions. They usually go to lunch after, but I head home, avoiding the awkward conversation.

I’ve started looking for apartments—just to see what’s out there. If moving in with my mom becomes my only option, I know I’ll never break things off with Brad. She and I do not get along. We’ve been butting heads for as long as I can remember,screaming at each other almost daily in high school. Between me blaming her and my rebellious nature, we never stood a chance. I have to find something else.

Brad left for New York this morning, and tomorrow I leave for California for Christmas. The past three nights with him have sucked the life out of me. He’s been more possessive, more jealous, more paranoid than ever. And when he gets like that, he needs more sex. Three nights of constant arguing, yelling, throwing things, and meaningless sex—ending with me crying myself to sleep. It’s hitting me now, harder than ever, just how unhealthy this has become.

I want out. Ineedout. No matter how terrified I am, I’m determined to find a way. But leaving Brad wouldn’t be clean—it never could be. He wouldn’t let me walk away unscathed, happy, or free. And the thought of what that might cost—my job, Ryan, everything—I shove it down before it can consume me.

I know Ryan won’t cross the line. It’s one of the things I admire most about him. He’s honorable; he does the right thing. But me? God, between my trust issues and my constant need to justify my actions, that line between right and wrong feels fuzzier every day.

I watch Ryan, his focus shifting from me to his laptop, then back to me, frustration evident. I lean back in my chair, nudging his foot under the table—lightly, almost absently—while I stretch. “You look so serious,” I tease, grinning as I catch his eye.

He lets out a deep exhale. “Sorry, I’m distracted.”

“What’s going on?”

He checks his watch. “Um… it’s nothing. Sorry.”

I scowl at him. “Don’t say it’s nothing when it’s clearly something. I know you better than that.”

He hesitates, meeting my gaze. He’s acting weird. “Fine. It’s just… I have a date tonight. And… I’m nervous, I guess.” I try tohide my surprise and disappointment as he continues. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken someone new on a date.”

Well, shit.My stomach twists, the grin frozen on my face as I try to process his words. Of course he’s trying to move on. What did I expect—that he’d sit around and wait for me while I can’t even decide what it is that I want? Or when I don’t have the balls to do the same? But still… it stings. More than I want to admit.

He glances at me, a look of resignation on his face. “Sorry… I wasn’t going to tell you about it.”

I attempt to play it cool. “Why weren’t you going to tell me?”

He shrugs, looking almost guilty. “I don’t know. I didn’t want things to be… weird between us.”

“Weird? Why would I care if you’re dating someone?” I flash a smile, ignoring the knot twisting tighter in my stomach. “I mean, I’m happy for you. Really.”

His eyes narrow slightly, searching my expression. “Yeah?”

“Of course. I just hope she’s not boring.” I give him a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt she’s as much fun as I am.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, you think you’re hard to beat?”

I lean in a little closer. “I mean… I’d be surprised if she could match the kind of fun we had in the pool… And don’t even get me started on Newport. But hey, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I think she could surprise you,” he replies, a bit more smugly than before. “She looks pretty hot. A gymnast too—flexible.” He waggles his brows.

I smother a laugh, but as his words sink in, my confidence wavers. Okay, I guess this is how I handle jealousy—turn it into a game, throw in some jokes, and hope he doesn’t notice how much it’s killing me inside. God, I hate how much I want him to only want me.

“Aren’t you worried she might be catfishing you?” I quip, keeping my voice light.

“Nah. She’s got a lot of pics on her profile, and she’s consistently good-looking in all of them. Body looks phenomenal. I bet she’s great in bed.” He smacks his lips together, biting back a grin and raising his brows. He’s trying his best to get under my skin. And it’s working, but I can play this game too.

“Well, good for you, Ryan. You might finally get your dick wet. If you’re lucky, she might give you a night that’s… almost memorable.” I add a small laugh, but my pulse is racing—praying she doesn’t give him so much as a kiss. “I hope you don’t end up lying there wishing it was me.” I flash him a grin as I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms.

He chuckles wickedly. “Oh, I already know you’ll be under your covers tonight with your vibrator, jealous, thinking of me while Brad’s out of town.”

He’s not wrong, but this time, I’m not afraid to own it. I raise my brows. “Wouldn’t be the first time this week. Last night I had a wild little fantasy—three words, Ryan: office, desk, you.” I say in a sultry voice, feeling smug as hell.

“Jesus Christ.” He glances down, clearing his throat. “Are you ever going to break up with Brad?” he says seriously, a smile tugging at his lips, his gaze locking on mine.

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