Page 23 of Paxton

“Ugh,” I groan. “Can’t take a hint.”

Paxton looks at the screen, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Don’t answer it.”

“No, I’m going to. I’m over this. He needs to stop,” I say, setting down my drink with one hand as I swipe open the call in the other. I nod to Paxton before heading through the crowded bar and outside, so I can hear him. “Hello?”

“Monroe,” he says my name on a slur, so I know he’s wasted. “Come over.”

“No,” I say firmly. “You have to stop calling me. It’s getting intense.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, dragging out his words. I can hear his friends in the background. “I really am. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I just got mad.”

“It’s fine,” I say, sighing as I walk around the building as more people are coming into the entrance. I take up a good lean around the corner, where the light is muted and I can stick to the shadows. “I don’t need an apology. I need you to stop calling. I need you to move on.”

“But we were just heating up,” he says, almost a whine.

“No, we weren’t.”

“Let’s fix that then,” he says. “Come over. We can make up.”

I roll my eyes. “Find someone else,” I say. “You know I’m not it.”

There’s a pause, and I hope to hell he’s actually thinking about leaving me alone finally.

“You definitely aren’t it,” he says, his tone harsher now. “I kept trying to give you a chance too. But no. You just…you’re too much of a prude to even try more with me. You’re a massage therapist who doesn’t like to fool around? What kind of bullshit is that? You have all this talent, and I bet you can’t even get yourself off with how uptight you are.”

Stunned silence steals through me and tears gather in the backs of my eyes. It takes me a few seconds to replay the words he just spoke, to allow them to sink in. I don’t mind fooling around, if trust had been earned. God, just because he thought since we’d dated over a month that we should’ve been sleeping together doesn’t make me a prude.

“Did you really just say that?” I snap, trying like hell to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. He just struck hard and low, hitting me in a sore spot I’ve had for a long time.

“I did,” he says, sounding somehow angrier and drunker. And I get people say stupid shit while drinking, but this…

This is beyond wrong.

“You know what, Liam?” I say, barely able to hold back the tears. “You’re the who can go fuck himself.”

I hang up the phone, shoving it in my bag as the tears come.

“Whoa,” Paxton says as he comes around the corner. “What happened?” He immediately envelops me in a hug, and I fall into the embrace effortlessly.

“He’s just an asshole,” I say, clinging to him. “I should’ve listened to you. He’s vile.”

“What did he say to you?” he asks, his tone low and cold, all that icy rage directed toward Liam, not me.

I suck in a sharp breath, wiping at my cheeks as I finally get a fucking grip. “You don’t want to know.”

Paxton shifts me in the embrace so he can look down at me. “I do,” he says. “Tell me.”

It’s the way he’s looking down at me, his eyes sincere and compassionate, and the way he’s holding me, possessive yet tender, that has all my other senses firing up. We’re pressed together and he’s hugging me like he usually does, but I’m not burying anything anymore so I feel it. I feel him, and he feelssogood.

I sigh. “He basically said that I’m a prude who probably can’t even get myself off.” I cringe, mortification threatening to take away just how nice it feels to be held right now. “But it never felt right with him,” I continue.

“Damn, I thought you two had…”

“Slept together?” I shake my head. “Nope. The one time we even came close to…exploring anything, he was wasted, so I stopped it before it could go anywhere. He’s been an asshole to me ever since.”

“Fuck him,” Paxton practically growls, hugging me tighter.

“Yeah, fuck him,” I say against his chest, shaking my head. “But it stings. Maybe he’s right.”

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