Page 31 of Brambles and Bellflowers
“Well,” he said, finally—a bitter chip in his voice, “that was interesting.”
Even I wasn’t so naïve. “What did you expect?” I asked.
Damen glanced at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Miles is missing,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “And you’re acting like nothing’s wrong.”
“We’ll find him,” Damen replied, his tone maddeningly calm. “He always turns up eventually.”
I clenched my hands in my lap. “How can you be so… so…”
“So what, Bianca?” Damen prompted.
“Whatever.” I bit my lip. “It’s not like anyone cares.”
Damen frowned. “I care that you’re upset. That’s why I wanted to talk to Colette—to find Miles. For you.”
I tensed.
“Are you still jealous?” Damen asked.
My hackles rose, and I glared at him. “I’m not jealous!” How dare he say such a thing! “I’m angry on Miles’s behalf! Were you ever going to tell him?”
“It’s not his business.” Damen frowned. “Colette can have sex with whoever she wants.”
“Oh?” I prodded. “I thought we were a quintet—and what affected one of us affected the other. Besides, it wasn’t a one-night thing. You’ve had a relationship with his sister for a year!”
“We never had a relationship,” Damen interjected. “And it doesn’t hurt Miles in any way. I don’t see the big deal.”
“Really?” I asked, shrugging. “So you wouldn’t care if I had sex with your brother?”
The car jerked as Damen’s hand slipped, but he regained control relatively quickly. “You told me you didn’t.”
“That’s not the point,” I explained. “It would bother you, wouldn’t it? Despite what you said before.”
“Not for the same reasons,” he muttered, looking away.
“It is the same,” I rebutted. “You need to tell him. You would want to know.”
“Fine,” Damen grumbled, and I could see from the rigid set of his jaw that he disagreed. “When the time is right.”
I nodded. However, the mood remained tense, and after a moment of cold silence, I pressed my knees together.
What was this feeling—this stone settling in my stomach?
My heart raced as I touched my fingertips to his arm. “Hey,” I began, waiting for his attention. “It’s a good thing.”
He pursed his lips.
“Then you won’t need to feel guilty anymore,” I promised.
“I didn’t feel guilty before,” he argued, still pouting.
“Yes, you did,” I told him. When he looked at me from the corner of his eyes, I explained, “If you didn’t think it was important, then you would have told him right away. But it does bother you. So you’re trying to convince yourself every time you downplay it.”
“You sure you don’t want to change majors?” Damen sulked. “I think you’d fit in Psychology just fine.”
The warm feeling in my chest vanished, and I looked away. “No thanks,” I grumbled. Why did he ruin the moment with such stupid statements? “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
