Page 88 of Sugar

He’s embarrassed.

He doesn’t want people to know I am a college student.

It wasn’t like our age gap was a secret. One look at us made that obvious. But in his head, there must’ve been a difference between me being younger than him and me still being in college.

And God, that hurt. Because behind the indignation tightening my chest until I wanted to scream were all the insecurities his deflections tapped into.

That I wasn’t good enough to even be his date.

That he knew it, too, and that was why he was going to great lengths to avoid sharing anything about me.

That I was a silly little girl.

Pretty on his arm, but nothing more than that.

At the blow of his shockingly belittling answers, I thought about the way he always hovered. How he’d backtracked at the Justice Unrestrained dinner to make me come with him to the bar. I wondered if he hadn’t trusted me unattended at the table.

Well…

This sucks.

Part of me—a big one—wanted to correct him. To say exactly what I was and what I did. But that wasn’t part of our arrangement. I was there to make his life easier. To serve my purpose and do as he said.

Even if he was ashamed of me.

Before I did something I would regret, I stood.

Or tried to.

With his hand on the back of my head, I barely inched out of my chair. He must’ve known I was pissed because he suddenly dropped his arm across my lap and wrapped his hand around my opposite thigh. If not for the circumstances, the intimate embrace would’ve heated me in a wildly different way. As it was, it was my rage that was stoked.

I didn’t want to make a scene. I was dramatic, but not like that. Usually, at least. In that moment, I was tempted to knock my drink right on his lap.

Accidentally.

And the maddening man at my side knew that, too. He lifted my glass and set it down out of my reach under the guise of straightening the table. While he did, the hand on my thigh tightened.

A silent warning.

One I didn’t heed.

I waited a few long minutes, not paying attention to the small talk he made with mystery Jerry. I expected my outward tolerance of the situation would be enough to get Easton to remove—or at least loosen—his heavy arm, but he didn’t. It was the opposite. Somehow reading my intentions, he put more pressure on my lap.

I didn’t let that stop me and attempted to stand anyway, desperately needing a second to get my head together.

All I managed to accomplish was inadvertently sliding his hand farther up my thigh.

Jerry’s gaze dropped to the connection, and all my fidgeting had made it seem like I was purposefully trying to get Easton to touch me more. The man gave me a smile that heebied my freaking jeebies. Every womanly instinct I had flared to life. The ones that warned me away from dark alleys, dodgy drinks, and online marketplace finds that seem too good to be true.

I wasn’t the only one.

Not bothering with pleasantries, Easton abandoned our plan to stick around. He practically lifted me from my seat as he stood. “Time to go, baby.”

It was miraculous—and not in a good way—but Jerry’s smile turned more lecherous. He doubled down on the creepy by slowly scanning down my body.

I figured Easton would ignore the blatant ogling—that was what I was doing—in favor of his typical even-tempered and blank nature.

I was wrong.

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