Page 76 of You're The One
The last thing I need is his jealousy stirring up the thing that’s trying to bloom in my chest.
Nope.Not watering that bitch.
“Yeah,” I draw out.
His gaze holds mine, a silent push for me to say more.
I don’t.
“Then no,” he mutters. “It’s not okay. The guy doesn’t have good intentions.”
“You and your conspiracies,” I huff. “Are we switching roles now? You gonna be the Negative Nancy?”
“So, you admit you were wrong about me?”
“Haven’t we already gone over this? But yeah, sure. Do you feel better now, or do you want to keep throwing your little tantrum?”
He broods silently, and somehow that only pisses me off more. I shift my entire body to face him.
“You’re being pretty hypocritical, Dom. If anyone has the right to be upset, it’s me.”
I ignore the voice of reason reminding me that’s not true. I knewexactlywhat I was signing up for. I’m the one breaking the deal we made.
“What the hell doyouhave to be upset about?” he whisper-shouts. “You think it was my choice not to get time with you last night? I would’ve spent the whole night with you if I could. You’re the one?—”
“You have a funny way of showing that,” I cut in.
“Seriously, what are you talking about?!”
“Hey, y’all,” Summer drawls, sliding into the seat on Dominic’s other side. “You might wanna keep the marital spat down unless you want it memorialized on television.”
They’re not filming yet, but that’s not to say they couldn’t if something worth capturing starts up.
We both nod at her without looking, then lean in closer to each other, voices low.
“Tell me,” Dom demands.
“You kissed her,” I hiss.
“What?!” His voice spikes, loud enough that half the gate looks our way.
“Everything okay over here?” Bodhi appears before either of us registers him, and any hope of avoiding attention is gone.
“No,” Dominic snaps, rising to his full height. “We need a minute. And you owe me.” His tone leaves no room for debate.
Bodhi steps aside.
Dominic grabs my wrist and tugs me down the corridor. “Where are we going?—”
Before I can finish, he swings open the door to a family restroom, checks that we aren’t being followed, and pulls me inside. The door clicks shut behind us, and then I’m suddenly pressed between him and the wood paneling.
I push against his chest, not because I want distance—damn it, Ido—but also because I’m all too aware of the questionable cleanliness of the public bathroom.
“That door’s disgusting. You owe me a new shirt,” I mutter, heat still simmering. “And what are you doing, anyway? Everyone probably thinks we’ve lost our damn minds.”
“I feel like I have,” he confesses. “You think I kissed someone?”
The frustration in his voice makes me question myself. I didn’t see the kiss… just Victoria’s hands exploring the expanse of his chest, her coy smile, the way she leaned in, erasing the space between them.
