Page 17 of Sacrifice
His hand stays extended, but I don't take it. Can't.
"Yes," he says simply. "You do. But you want me anyway."
"Fuck you."
"Later." He pulls his hand back, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "When you're done pretending."
"I'm not pretending anything. I genuinely despise you."
"Good." He stands, throwing money on the table for my wine. "Hate's just passion wearing a different dress. I can work with that."
"There's nothing to work with. We're done."
"We haven't even started, Saga." He leans down, close enough that his breath ghosts across my ear. "But when you're ready to stop lying to yourself, you know where to find me."
I shove him back, palm against his chest. "In your dreams, asshole."
"Every night," he agrees, straightening. "Sometimes twice."
My face burns. "You're disgusting."
"And you're a liar." He heads back to his table, pausing to look over his shoulder. "Nice dress, by the way. Shame Brandon didn't get to appreciate it properly."
"At least Brandon's a gentleman!"
"That's your problem right there." His grin is all predator. "You don't want a gentleman. You want someone who'll pin you against a wall and make you admit what we both know."
"I want you to leave me alone!"
"No, you don't." He's so fucking sure of himself. "But I'll give you more time to figure that out. Can't have you claiming I didn't let you come to it on your own."
"How generous," I spit.
"I can be." He returns to his table, but calls back, "Try not to terrorize too many nice boys while you're working through your issues, yeah? It's cruel to use them as shields."
I grab my purse, standing so fast I nearly knock over my chair. "I hate you!"
"So you've said." He's not even looking at me anymore, focused on whatever Tor's showing him on his phone. Dismissing me. "See you later, Saga."
The dismissal hurts more than it should. Makes me want to march over there and... what? Hit him? Kiss him? Both?
Instead, I storm out, leaving him with his club shit and his arrogance and his stupid knowing everything about me.
I stand here for a moment, hands shaking with rage and something else I refuse to name.
Through the window, I can see him at his table, relaxed and unbothered, like he didn't just blow up my date and my life.
Again.
My phone buzzes.
Elfe:
So??? Did you bang in the bathroom?
I furiously type her back:
I hate him!
