Page 47 of Wicked Temptations
“Only child. Got the full weight of their breakup all to myself.” His jaw tightened. “Mom would pump me for information about Dad’s new girlfriend. Dad would badmouth Mom every time I visited. It was fucking exhausting.”
“Yeah. That sounds familiar.”
We sat with that for a moment as the chaos of the room continued around us, but it felt distant now. Like we’d carved out a pocket of quiet in the middle of the noise.
Ash studied my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Not the hungry kind. Something different. “Is that why you’re like this?”
“Like what?”
“Keeps everyone at a distance. Acts like nothing matters.”
My throat went tight. He’d cut straight through to the bone with that observation. “Careful. We’re getting into dangerous territory.”
“Just calling it how I see it.”
He just couldn’t fucking help himself. “Yeah, well, your vision might be shit.” I crumpled my own wrapper with more force than necessary. “Besides, you’re not exactly Mr. Openness yourself.”
“Never said I was.” He held my gaze.
That comfortable pocket of space between us had become a cage, walls closing in with every word that stripped away another layer of protection. Dylan had done this too. Drawn-out confessions made me feel safe enough to bleed truth, then used every wound against me when things went south.
I stood up, my chair scraping against the linoleum. “Break’s almost over.”
Ash’s expression morphed into a frown. “We still have five minutes.”
“Yeah, well, I need to fix my face.” It was a lie; I’d clearly done that before coming in here and sitting down.
“Jude...”
I left him sitting there and pushed through the crowd toward the door. It had started raining while we’d been in there. Only a light drizzle, but enough to keep me stuck in one spot. I stood under the overhang and let the cool air hit my face, trying to settle the riot in my chest.
Ash was right. Of course, he was right. The broken home, the revolving door of my mom’s boyfriends, watching my sister pack her bags the day after graduation and never look back. All of it taught me the same lesson: don’t get attached. Don’t ever need anyone.
Don’t give them the power to leave.
It was far better to keep it physical. Keep it simple. Keep it from meaning anything.
Behind me, the door opened, and I heard Ash’s footsteps.
He just couldn’t leave it the fuck alone. I was ready to turn on him and give him a piece of my mind, but he beat me to it.
“I didn’t mean to push,” he said.
“Yeah, you did.” He didn’t get to back down that easily. Ash had known what he was doing—trying to get under my skin and get me to open up—so like hell was I going to let him sweep it under the rug.
He moved to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, but he didn’t make any other move. I wasn’t sure whether that drove me nuts or made me feel better.
I wanted to explode at him. Better yet, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to—
“I’m sorry,” he said, severing my thought process. The asshole sounded like he really meant it. “I went too far. I’m just good atpushing your buttons—kinda my specialty, I guess. But I should have stopped.”
I chuckled despite myself. “No argument there.”
We stood there in the drizzle, not quite touching. The pause stretched between us, but it felt different than usual. Less like waiting for the next fight to start. Less like bracing for impact.
Part of me wanted to bolt, to put distance between us before this went anywhere I couldn’t take back. But a bigger part—the part I kept trying to ignore—wanted to stay right here, shoulder to shoulder with someone who seemed to actually see me instead of just the performance I put on every night.
It scared the shit out of me.
