Page 7 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
I pull away from Eric so abruptly he looks at me oddly. “You okay?” He touches my cheek. “Your face is all red.”
I can feel he’s right. My cheeks are suddenly so hot they burn. “I just need those Advil, that’s all. And some food.”
“Say no more. I’m on it.” He turns to the drawer where I keep the takeout menus and rifles through them. I turn and head for the bedroom.
“Lenzini’s?” he shouts from the kitchen. I strip off my shirt and toss it to the bed.
“Sounds good,” I shout back. I remove the rest of my work clothes, change into a pair of black yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and get the Advil from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Washing two gel caps down with a gulp of water from the sink, I catch sight of my face in the mirror.
I look like hell.
My makeup wore off hours ago. My complexion is blotchy, and there are black smudges beneath my eyes where mascara has strayed from my lashes. My hair looks as if a family of rodents has built a nest in it. My eyes are red and glassy, and there’s a look in them I rarely see:
Fury.
Anger boils my blood, making my hands shake, my heart throb as if I’ve sprinted up a flight of stairs. I know the cause of this rage, and I’m disappointed with myself for letting him, once again, get under my skin.
In the short time I’ve known him, A.J. Edwards has managed to make me lose my cool more than I’ve lost my cool over the course of my entire life. I’m known for my even temper, for being able to get along with most anyone, for manners and ladylike ways. I never even curse.
Well, hardly ever; I’ve called A.J. a few choice names.
It’s partly the way I was raised, but it’s also just my nature. I’m a naturally happy person. I’m easygoing. I was voted Most Popular my senior year of high school, for God’s sake! I’m likeable! I’m nice!
You’re a stuck-up, frigid rich girl who wouldn’t know a dick if it hit her in the face.
I have to stand at the mirror and breathe deeply for several minutes before I finally begin to calm down. Once I do, I realize the fury isn’t the worst of what I’m feeling.
The hurt is the worst. For reasons unknown, A.J. hates my guts. It hurts me more than I’d like to admit.
I meet my eyes in the mirror one last time, and shake my head. “Suck it up, Chloe,” I say to my reflection. “Not everyone has to like you. Let it go.”
For not the first time, I resolve to move on from the mystery of why this stranger seems to wish me dead. Even if I knew the reason, I know I couldn’t change his mind. He’s not the kind of man who listens to what he doesn’t want to hear.
When I finally leave the bedroom, I find Eric sprawled on the couch in the living room with the television tuned to a football game. His cell phone is gripped in one hand, the remote control in the other.
He’s snoring gently, sound asleep.
I don’t wake him. By the time the pizza arrives, Eric’s snoring has reached chainsaw levels. I cover him with a blanket, pay the delivery guy, sit down at my kitchen table alone, and eat a slice of lukewarm pizza—picking off the pepperoni, because Eric forgot again that I don’t eat meat—all the while trying not to be driven insane by the little voice inside my head that’s whispering one thing over and over.
A.J.
A.J.
A.J.
I abandon the half-eaten piece of pizza on the table, turn off all the lights, and go to bed, where I lay staring at the ceiling in the dark.
I should be thinking about the future, about what an incredible opportunity Kat and Nico have given me; how if their wedding flowers are admired, my life will change for the better in all the ways I’ve dreamed; or even about why Eric smelled like beer when he arrived, when he said he’d just gotten off work.
But I don’t think about any of that. I think about cold amber eyes and messy gold hair and a stare that burns right through me, until finally, mercifully, sleep overtakes me and I pass out.
Even in my dreams, I can’t escape him.
It’s Sunday afternoon at four o’clock. I’m on the phone with a customer, taking an order for a funeral spray, when I’m grabbed from behind and pulled against a solid chest.
“Hello, beautiful,” a cultured voice purrs in my ear. “Come here often?”
I spin around. When I see who it is, I scream in delight. “Jamie! You’re here!” I throw my arms around my brother’s shoulders.
