Page 34 of This

A candle burns on the counter. The jasmine and scent of new clothes purges my nose of him while I wander the store, shopping and avoiding. The salesclerk steps out from the back. She must deem my face trustworthy and ducks right back through the opening on her phone. I should steal the candle to prove her wrong.

I find a few outfits in case I need to distract Keaton with something shiny later. An all-black jumpsuit with a tie at the middle, cutoff jean shorts and an off-the-shoulder orange top, and a short red dress she’ll purr over. Wearing the last one, I creak open the door to my dressing room and step into the larger area with angled mirrors to check the cutout in the back. She has a regrettable tattoo that I prefer not see the light of day—Iregret her getting it, not her. Once I’ve assured the sunflower will stay hidden under the fabric, I face the main mirror and smooth my hands over the front.

“Buy it,” Dane says from the doorway. I suck in a breath and glance over at him, his arms crossed and gaze tracing over me in one of the mirrors. “If you don’t, I will.”

“How did you find me?”

“I watched you trip up the stair as soon as you thought I wasn’t looking.”

I brace myself when he strolls over. The jasmine candle already loses out to him.

“The dress isn’t for me,” I say as he stops behind me.

“It should be.” He slides up the strap that slipped off my shoulder. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

I recheck the price tag, pretending not to care when he drags his knuckles down my arm. “I picked it out for Keaton. She looks better in red.”

When I look up, he shakes his head at me through the mirror. “Not possible.”

The words linger between us, his eyes searching my face.

“Talk to me,” he says. “I know it’s about the picture—”

“It really doesn’t matter.” I sound detached and unaffected, a cool bitch above the jealousy.

“If you’re upset enough to stop talking to me, it does.” A crease appears in his forehead. “I’m sorry. I was drunk, and … I thought you were into it.”

I stare at him blankly. He thought I was into—Ohmytitsinthecloud.

Dane’s not talking about the pictures of his hands on someone else in a bar. He means the one I sent him and forgot all about after Marco’s text.

“Delete it,” I blurt out. “Delete the picture of me.”

“I already did. That night after you stopped responding.”

I blow out a breath, but the relief only lasts a second.

“That’s not what you were mad about? Then what pictures…” Realization lights up like a flare across Dane’s face, his fingers skimming over my forearm switching to a light hold. “Marco’s still stalking my Instagram?”

With nowhere to go but head-on into the truth, I nod.

“Shit, Bennett.” He spins me around and slides his hands up to cup my cheeks, so I can’t look away. “I never slept with her. I didn’t even leave with her. And if I had, there’s no way in hell I would have been hitting you up the same night.”

Out of everything, my mind sticks on theif I had, and the sense of betrayal returns. “So, you only text me on nights you can’t get laid?”

“What?” He shakes his head. “No. I text you because I want to, no other reason.” When I sidestep, he moves with me. “Would you quit trying to run?”

I stop and force myself to stand there, trapped by him and his words and the ridiculous threat of tears.

“I need you to tell me if I did something wrong. Am I not supposed to be with anyone else?” he asks with such sincerity, which makes the whole situation all the worse.

“No,” I say, but I barely believe myself. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to make it complicated.”

“Baby,youare complicated. I’ve been trying to figure you out since I caught you sneaking out of some other dude’s apartment. And I think I’m further away now than then because I didn’t think you wanted anything serious.”

“I don’t.” I shake my head, as confused by myself as he is. “Or I didn’t.”

“But you do now?” More sincerity, genuine, and he’s looking at me like he does, and I can’t stand it anymore.

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