Page 97 of Jacob

“Last night was the first time we…” I need air. I can’t breathe.

“Is that why you hired that fucking PI? Like some sort of superhero? How long?”

My voice raises. “I just told you, last night was the…”

“You’re a fucking liar, Jay.” He turns around, angry energy bouncing off him. I can feel it from across the room as I move toward him, closing the space between us.

“I’m not. I didn’t touch, kiss, or sleep with her until last night.” I gather all the strength I have, straightening myself up to full height.

“And before then? Have you been messing about with her behind my back?” he yells in my face.

“It’s not like that.” I show no signs of backing down, as I refuse to deny how I feel about Skye.

“Explain what the fuck it’s like, then?” His face is tormented with confusion.

Skye runs into the room, looking panicked, dressed in my tee shirt from yesterday. “Owen, stop this.” She piles her hair on top of her head, making my top creep up her thighs.

If she lifts her arms any higher, she’ll flash her pussy at him.

Aw hell, he’s already seen it. Fuck, I feel sick.

“Stop? I haven’t even started.” He scoffs. “I fucking know you, Jay. You’ve had several girlfriends, but none of them ever live up to your standards and then you move on. But you like to fuck all night to keep them happy.” He sneers.

I clench my jaw tight. “Is that how you see me?” I thread my hands on top of my head and pace back and forth. “Fuck, Owen, if you’d paid enough attention, then you’d know why none of them lived up to what I wanted.”

“What, did none of them give good head or like it rough enough?”

Skye gasps at his crass remark.

“How fucking dare you, Owen.” I throw him a brutal stare. “You are so far off the mark.”

“How far?” he laughs mockingly.

“Try Skye fucking high off the mark.” I point at her. “That’s how far.”

He looks confused.

“I’m in love with Skye and have been for years.” My loud words echo across the open space.

His head shoots back as if struck by lightning, brows dipping low. “What?”

“You fucking asked her out in high school, knowing that I liked her.”

“No, I fucking didn’t.”

“Yes, you did!” I roar. “Trust me, I know you and how you work. You think you know me, but you know fuck all about me or Skye. You never cared about her. Everything you did, organized, or went to, there always had to be something in it for you. You never,everput her first. But I did. Always.”

“You’re fucking delusional.”

I’ll be damned if he thinks I am. “Who took her home from prom when she ripped her dress?” I storm across the room in his direction.

“Me?” He looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Mehhh.” I make the noise of a buzzer. “Wrong. It was me.” I dig my finger into my chest. “Who helped Skye fill out her art college application? Who went with her to her first driving lesson because she was nervous? Who went to her college interview with her? Who organized your five-year anniversary meal at that fancy restaurant in London she always wanted to go to that appeared on that television cooking show? And who else knows that when she’s happy she sings to herself? Did you ever pay attention to anything or even care about her?”

“Can you hear yourself? You sound like an obsessive stalker. He’s talking shit, Skye, tell him.” He points from her to me.

She shakes her head. “He’s not wrong, Owen.” Her voice is gentle. “He’s right about everything.”

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