Page 35 of Arrogant Puck

I glance at her. “You fucking love it.”

She slides off the counter, dragging her skirt down and adjusting her top like it makes a difference now.

“That’s not the point.”

Still not saying anything, I cross the kitchen to the hallway and lean against the wall. She’s fuming, pacing like she’s trying to decide if she wants to throw something or walk out.

“You could at least pretend I matter,” she snaps.

“You don’t,” I say, calm.

That stops her. She blinks at me.

She scoffs a laugh. “Wow. Jesus. Did you take a shot to the head in practice or something?”

Still nothing.

My arms stay crossed, my mouth shut, my stare flat.

In my head, I’m thinking about how she’s lucky I don’t shove her up against the wall and tie her wrists down until she stops talking. Stuff a sock in her mouth until she gets the message.

But I don’t.

Because I don’t want her here anymore.

Because I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at myself. At her. The one who walked out ten minutes ago and didn’t so much as blink after I put my hands on her.

Lexi stares at me like she’s expecting me to break. To say I’m joking. That I didn’t mean it.

But I just turn and walk down the hall to the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and leave her standing in my kitchen.

When I come out, the house is quiet.

Her car is gone.

And the cameras show nothing but an empty driveway.

Good.

I sit on the couch, lean forward with my elbows on my knees, and rub my hands over my face.

Because that should’ve worked.

But it didn’t.

And now I want something I have no business even thinking about.

The house is dead silent.

Lexi’s gone, but my phone won’t shut the fuck up.

Three unread messages.

Amanda: U up?

Liza: Wanna keep me company?

Shay: You said next time. This is next time.

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