Page 18 of The Masks We Break

He moves around the counter, and to my slight disappointment, he’s put on a white V-neck. It pulls across his chest, hugging his biceps, and pools at his waist. A sight that would have me drooling if I wasn’t so annoyed.

“Is it not your favorite anymore?” Blaze places two strong hands on either side of the counter and tilts his head, something smug curling just the corner of his lips.

Mango teaismy favorite. Has been since forever, but how he knows, I haven’t the faintest clue. That piece of thread yanks hard, pulling my heart into my throat, and I open my mouth before I can stop it.

“This is what I’m talking about, Blaze. This—” I gesture to the tea, then to the food. “Why do you do this type of stuff when it’s clear you want nothing to do with me?”

I fight the urge to cover my mouth with my hands, but my face betrays me and blooms from the heat.

Never ask Blaze something you don’t want to know the answer to.

I learned my lesson once already, so why I think asking this mananythingis stupid of me.

But it’s too late. His eyebrows furrow, and he crosses those big arms. His blue eye darkens, and for a second, it seems as though they both are the same stormy gray, sending a shiver through my core.

“You want to have this talk again, puppet?”

No.“Yes.”

What is wrong with me? That word again should be enough to shut my trap, save me the embarrassment and hurt, but I guess rational Remy isn’t here right now. But heck, maybe this time, when he says it, it’ll stick because obviously it didn’t three years ago.

Blaze clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his scowl, and I grit my teeth, preparing for the blow.

“Taking care of you, and ensuring you don’t get yourself into trouble, has no correlation to what your mind twists it to be. Just because I don’t wish to see you walking the apartments drunk and perhaps carried off into some predator’s white van, doesn’t mean I want you in the way you think. The way you want.”

And just like that, my eyes snap to the counter.The way I want.The burn of fresh tears tingles the edge of my eyelids as they come, unwelcome. I don’t want to be that girl. The one who pines after a guy who so obviously isn’t interested. The one who doesn’t seem to know her worth and makes a fool of herself to grab his attention.

No.

I’m the smart one. The one that busts her butt to get her grades and loves herself even if she doesn’t have the body of a model. The one with the strong last name that could get her anything but chooses to work for it instead. The soon-to-be doctor who will marry another doctor and be too busy for the love I’ve only read about.

I’m that girl.

So why? Why is it that this statue of a man in front of me has me acting out of sorts? Acting as though I don’t remember I am Remy freaking Solace? Because he remembers a favorite drink from high school? Because he doesn’t want me to walk home drunk?

Screw him.

My feet touch the floor before I can stop myself, and I bolt for the door. Of course, he gets there first.

“Why do you do this?”

My face snaps to him, and I ignore the tears I feel streaming down my cheeks. “Do-o-o w-what, Blaze?”

“Put emotions into everything? My intentions are not to upset you. They are to be honest. Give you a clear understanding of who I am and what my actions mean. Am I wrong for that?”

Instead of answering, I look at my hands. I don’t want to answer him. I don’t want to admit that it’s actually really freaking amazing he’s not leading me on to get in my pants like most of my dates try to do. I don’t want to admit that his honesty makes me like him more.

What is wrong with me?I ask myself at least thirty times a day when it comes to this man, yet I can never figure out the answer.

He grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my eyes up to his. My stomach flips, and that makes my heart ache more.

“If me doing these things makes you feel this way, and if it’s causing you this much grievance, I will make sure we don’t run into each other anymore. That you get the distance, you need.” He pauses, searching my eyes, but for what I don’t know. “Is that what you want?”

Every internal organ in my body cries in unison, screaming at me to say no. To say that, I can put the emotion aside to keep feeling the dangerous warmth that radiates off the devil himself. But my brain is grateful. It knows that while I may want something, it doesn’t mean I need it. Or that it’s good for me.

And I know Blaze is no good for me. I’ve always known.

So instead of telling him what I really want or asking him if maybe one day he could try to feel something, I give a weak nod.

---