Page 84 of Reconciling With the Rival

You have before. I stop myself from saying that, because I really don’t have much energy left to fight with him. “Fine,” I say as I grab the sushi from his hand. When I open it, my mouth immediately starts to water. I guess I didn't realize how hungry I was.

He sits next to me instead of across from me, and I hate how close he is. It was nice having an entire table between us, but now, we don't. And there’s no way he forgot about the sex proposal he made. He did tell me I had one day to think about it, and that day is almost up.

“Alissa told me you talked to your parents the other day. How are they doing?” I ask, trying to break the weird tension in the room. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve been alone all night or if it’s the pact that looms over us, but I need it to go the fuck away.

“My dad is still recovering, but he’s the same stubborn bastard who raised me, so he’s okay.”

“That’s good.” I know Alissa has been struggling with everything going on, and I assume he is too. Their family is close—like most are. I’m not used to that. Sure, I’m close with my dad and my sister, but it’s not the same. There’s been a missing piece my entire life, and now she’s back, and I have no idea what to do about it.

I can’t think about this right now.

“How about you? How’s your family?”

“They’re fine.”

“And it’s just you, your dad, and your sister, right?”

I nod. “My younger sister has been giving me a run for my money lately, but I think it’s just the burdens of being a teenager.”

“Well, it happens to everyone, right?”

“I guess,” I tell him, and as we keep eating, the tension skyrockets. I’m way too focused on his mouth, and I can’t seem to pull my gaze away.

Nobody should look like that while eating sushi. If you told me Leo was modeling for this fucking delivery place, I’d believe you.

He sits in his chair, sleeves rolled up, arm veins bulging, his chopsticks in his hand. The guy works out excessively—every fucking morning—and he has the muscles to prove it.

Stop fucking staring, Ella.

I bet he’s used to it by now. In college, girls used to look at him, and their panties would fall off. Everyone on campus wanted to either be him or fuck him. It was no goddamn secret.

“Have you given much thought to my indecent proposal?”

His question startles me out of my haze. “No, actually. I’ve been trying not to think about it.” I stand to throw out the remains of my dinner, and when I turn around, he’s walking toward me—so fucking slowly.

By the time he gets to me, he reaches around and throws his shit out too. But when he’s done, he doesn't move out of my personal space.

“Don’t lie to me, Ella.”

Ella. For some reason, when he uses my actual name, I get weak in the knees. The way it rolls off his tongue with that damn accent should be considered criminal.

“I’m not,” I whisper.

He looks down at me, his brow cocked at my obvious lie. “So if I bent you over this table right now, you would hate that?” He reaches for where my hair sits in a bun and releases the clip. That light touch drives me more insane than I care to admit.

His hand trails behind my neck and reaches my cheek, his eyes still attached to mine.

“Zimmerman, I swear—”

“Oh, the surname now? God, you want me so bad, Ella. How do you not see it?”

“Just because we had sex one time—”

“Twice. Or did you forget about our college slip-up?” He smirks as he grabs my hair in his fist and pulls it. “We do that a lot, don't we?”

“It’s only happened twice, and it never will again.”

He pulls my head in close to his, and suddenly, I have the urge to kiss him, and I don’t know why.

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