Page 154 of Ominous: Part 1
“Were you hurt by that?” There’s a quietness to his question, but I can’t place his tone.
I drop my hands back to my thighs.Are you stupid?But if he wants to play this game… “I distracted myself with Dom.”
His eyes narrow, and here, shielded by the trees, the emerald in his irises is all gone, only forest green around his pupils, contained in the black lines ringing his eyes. “Do you do that often?” He raises his brows. “Distract yourself?”
“Why were you even mad at me?” I ask instead of answering. “It’s why we fought,” I remind him, not gently. “It’s the entire reason I didn’t want to speak to you Sunday, and Monday, and yesterday, and I didn’t want to speak to you today, either, but of course, you’re a spoiled brat who always has to get his way, so you don’t respect boundaries and—”
He grabs my face, causing me to jump in my seat as he jerks me closer to him, my hands going to the console between us to steady myself. We’re nose-to-nose. I let him touch me this way for one second. Two.
Then I grab his wrist, pulling his arm down as I back away and release him. “Don’t touch me like that. Don’t fucking grab me again.”
He smiles, his hand on the console. But he says nothing about my words. He just asks, once more, “Why did you let him kiss you?”
I remember his fist against Dom’s nose. His threats to hurt him.Kill him.“Why did you pretend I didn’t exist and throw your arm around Luna and ignore me all fucking day?”
His eyes trace my mouth, and I see his dark lashes, fanned just over his cheekbones. He doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Me and her are friends. Nothing more.”
“But you didn’t evenlookat me the entire morning—”
“I wanted you to myself.” His eyes slowly drag up my face, to meet my gaze. “You’re right, you know. Iama spoiled brat, and I’m trying very hard not to be when it comes to you. Because I’m also selfish, and you are more than I have ever deserved, and maybe I’m playing it safe by trying to ruin this before it can really begin.”
His words stun me, but I cannot make this so easy for him. He’ll leave me faster, if I do.
“When I left, did you fuck her?” I try to find the answer in his eyes before he speaks. But he’s already too good. Eighteen, and he could act in a Broadway play.
You good, baby?
His text from that night. What had he done before? Why did he wait so long to check in with me? Does he care, or does he only pretend to, because it gets him what he wants?
I don’t know.
I can’t figure him out, and I’m not sure he has himself figured out, either.
He stares at me for long seconds before he asks, “Are you going to hold it against me?”
I inhale against the sharpness of the knife.At least it’s not in my back.
“I’m sorry.” He must see it in my eyes, how it hurts, and I wish I could hide it, but I already failed.
“You’ve said that before.” I feel as if I’m stumbling over those words, reminding him of what he told me at Dominic’s, the two of us drenched in rain. I haven’t forgotten his promise then.
“I’ll say it again,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’ll always mess up.”
“And you expect me to always accept your apology?”
He doesn’t answer.
I squeeze my thighs together, grateful he hasn’t said anything about me wearing this stupid skirt.
“What exactly did you do with her?” I don’t look away, but he straightens, putting more distance between us.
He doesn’t answer as he grabs the shifter, then closes his eyes, like he’s trying to steady himself. He beats out a silent rhythm with his fingers to the music I can barely hear.
“Built for Sin,”Framing Hanley, one of my favorites, I wonder how many more we share. How many things we’ve never discussed because surface conversations don’t seem to exist for us. It should be special. In this moment, hearing this song I love playing in his car, I wonder what we’re missing out on with one another.
I take a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
He stills his fingers but doesn’t open his eyes and doesn’t respond.
