Page 64 of Frozen Hearts
Again, with the attitude.
“Why are you angry with me? I’m the one who should be pissed atyou.”
A derisive snort escapes as he shakes his head, unable to meet my eye as his focus bounces around the room.
I wait for his response until it becomes apparent he’s not going to elaborate.
Oookay then.
“Why have you been ghosting me?” I snap.
Silence.
“And you’ve missed two tutoring sessions.”
Again, no response. Although, in fairness, that didn’t technically warrant one.
Perplexed and affronted by the fact that he can’t even look at me, I reach out to touch his arm. “Logan,” I say more softly.
The second my skin touches his, he flinches away as though burned. However, it’s the look of disdain that wrinkles his nose and pulls at his lips that sucker-punches me.
“Did I do something?” I question, considering that’s the only thing that makes any sense.
Still no response, and I wrack my brain to understand.
“Talk to me,” I plead, desperate to understand what happened. How we went fromI’m going to be that pesky little bug you can’t get rid ofto… this.
His teeth grind, the muscle in his jaw popping so profoundly that I’m momentarily worried he will burst a blood vessel or something.
When I think he’s going to ignore me yet again, his eyes finally snap to mine. The sharp edges slice through my skin. “I think it’s more about what youdidn’tdo.”
His fingers fly over the screen of his phone before he turns it to face me, and my eyes go wide as I stare at a photo of me, dressed in a gold one-piece and stockings, standing on the stage at Lux alongside the other performers.
Unable to form words, I stare at the photo.
“Lux is the club we were at on Saturday.”
Fuck.
“Imagine my surprise when the performer my teammates were drooling over turned around, and it wasyourface I saw.”
There’s a careful neutrality to his tone, making it impossible for me to decipher his feelings.
Running my tongue along my dry lips, I rip my gaze away from the phone screen to glance up at him. His expression is just as guarded.
“Logan,” I hedge. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. If I’d known that’s where you were going, I would have.”
He scoffs, clearly not believing me.
“I would have,” I persist. “Besides, it’s not like you ever asked where I worked. You knew I had a job and that I worked late, yet not once did you askwhere.”
His eyebrows climb his forehead. “So you’re saying this ismyfault.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I say exasperated, “No. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just, this isn’t all on me.”
That muscle is once again popping in his jaw. My eyes scan his face, searching as I tilt my head. “Unless this isn’t about the fact I didn’t tell you…”
Fucking silence.
