Page 74 of Sweet Chaos
Might have?
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean what I said. You looked beautiful.”
I let out a harsh laugh and stared at the laptop screen. The words danced in front of my eyes but didn’t register.
“I don’t like seeing you with someone else,” he said, still trying to explain his behavior.
“You made that pretty clear.” I gestured to the door, shooing him away. “You can go now.”
“I had no right to question you.”
This was starting to feel like a good grovel. I hadn’t thought him capable of that. But we were irrevocably broken and no amount of groveling or chocolates or coffee was going to fix us.
He came around to my side of the desk and sat on the edge of it, one booted foot planted on the floor, his eyes intently studying my face while mine studiously avoided him. Bad enough that his scent invaded my senses, I didn’t need a visual reminder of the guy I’d vowed to keep at arms-length.
“Please leave.”
“Starlet, look at me,” he said softly, and it was that softness in his voice, his words like a plea, that drew my eyes to him and had me taking my first good look at him since he’d walked in the door. Big mistake.
Scruff on his jaw, his hair all messy and disheveled, in ripped black jeans, combat boots, and a black Pearl Jam T-shirt that said: don’t give up.
I remember that T-shirt. I remember that he used to love Pearl Jam. When I was fourteen, he told me “Black” was his favorite song. I listened to it on repeat for an entire summer. Pathetic, I know. Just like me.
Why did he have to look so sexy today? How unfair that I still found him irresistible.
And here we were again. Close enough to touch, close enough to breathe the same air, close enough to study the tattoos on his veiny forearms. And just like always, my pulse was racing, and my heart was jackhammering in my chest.
Then I reminded myself of the things he had done and the words he had said, and my need for self-preservation kicked in.
Shielding myself with invisible armor, I scooted my chair back until it hit the wall. As far away from him as the small office allowed. I needed space and breathing room and I needed answers which was the only reason I hadn’t already walked away.
“What do you want from me? Why did you show up on Saturday night?”
“I missed you,” he said simply.
“Right. You missed me.” I laughed hollowly. “It was just sex. You got what you wanted, and you dumped my ass. So what was that? A booty call?”
“You thought it was just about sex?” He sounded so incredulous I would have laughed if not for the fact that I didn’t find any of this even remotely funny.
“How should I know? You don’t talk. You just show up and act like a Neanderthal and say hateful things. Or you call me when you’re drunk and then don’t even remember calling. You said you don’t play games, but this entire thing has felt like one big stupid game. And guess what? I’m done playing your game.”
Dylan scowled. “It was never a game.”
“You’re right. Games are fun, and this wasn’t. Your words hurt me. And you… you hurt me, okay?” I wrapped my arms around myself for protection, all my truths spilling from my lips. I’d never been very good at keeping things inside.
“I tried to tell myself it was just sex, that it didn’t mean anything. I tried to tell myself that it was for the best. You and I were never meant to be together. But none of that made up for you just leaving and never explaining why or…” I averted my face. I always said too much. Made myself too vulnerable. It was my tragic flaw.
I wore my heart on my sleeve. A giant target for his poison arrow. And he always hit the bullseye.
“You weren’t a mistake. I fucked up.”
“Why did you lash out like that if you didn’t mean it?”
“It’s what I do.”
I shook my head, not ready to let him off the hook so easily. “That’s not an excuse.”
He exhaled loudly.
