Page 63 of Gorgeous

Anniston snorts out a laugh. “She’ll be back.”

My blood pressure rises and my face flames with embarrassment. “You don’t know that,” I say rudely, way more pissed at the idea of Breck never returning than I should be.

Anniston stares at me with a glint in her eyes, a smile peeking over her coffee mug. It’s the same smile she gives me when I do something that makes her proud. The question is, why is she giving it now?

“Iknow. She’ll be back. Then you’ll grovel and beg for forgiveness,” she says.

I stare at her, open-mouthed.

“What freaked you out, Gorgeous?” she continues like she didn’t just rock my world with her assuredness.

I shrug and swipe a hand through my hair. Sighing, I admit, “I don’t know. It caught me by surprise, I think.”

Anniston nods before grabbing her book off the side table and standing up. “Well, now you won’t be surprised.” She pinches my cheek before placing a kiss over the sting. “Goodnight, Cade.”

She leaves through the sliding glass doors, and I’m left alone in the dark to deal with my demons and lies. Kissing Breck didn’t catch me off-guard. What caught me off-guard was that I wanted more. I would have taken more had someone not opened the door.

The truth is, IneedBreck.

And that scares the fuck out of me.

I’m an asshole, I text Breck.

Within a minute she responds,I agree.

After my talk with Anniston, I felt like I needed to apologize to Breck, not grovel as Anniston suggested. I disagree with that approach wholeheartedly. Apologizing seems a little less pussy than groveling. But maybe girls like it? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even apologized to a woman other than Anniston.

I’ve never had a girlfriend.

The military was my girl. I lived for the adrenaline. For the adventure. For the honor. My dick was the only one with a weakness for a woman. Okay fine, I admit I enjoyed the hell out of it, too, but it was only ever sex for me. I never wanted to get to know them or meet their parents. I just wanted a wet hole, and I didn’t even care what hole it was.

I was simple like that.

I text her back,I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was inappropriate.

Are you serious? I kissed you back! We’re adults. It wasn’t inappropriate, she fires back.

I’m not sure that texting her was the right course of action, given her curt responses.I won’t admit that I’m good with women. I never have been.

Why do you hate me so much?she asks.

Oh God. Is that how she feels? That I hate her? I don’t hate her. Far from it. I want her so much that I hate myself.I don’t hate you.

Three dots appear, showing she’s typing. Why is my stomach cramping? Am I nervous?

Then why did you ask me to leave every day?

Because I’m an asshole and don’t express myself very well is what I should say. But I go with a slight variation of the truth.You make me nervous.

Why?Is her only response.

My hand cramps from texting, something I’m definitely not used to doing for so long.Can we talk? In person? Tomorrow?

I want to talk to her about as much as I want to talk to the psychologist Ans makes me go to a few times a year. But I’m not a dick and I like Breck. Probably too much, and I don’t want her to think the reason for my behavior is her. It’s definitely me.

She still hasn’t texted back, and it’s probably for the best. It’s easier for her to think that I hate her and not that I really like her but won’t allow myself to form an attachment.

Anniston was the only exception.

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