“You always have to bring up my most humiliating moments so I end up feeling like an asshole. I hate it.” I’m gripping the edge of the counter, afraid I might lunge toward him and beat him up. I’d love to pummel his pretty face with my fists and leave him bruised and battered.
His words leave me emotionally battered, and it sucks.
“Humiliating moments? What happened last night between us humiliated you?”
“You were so smug, hitting me with an I told you so right in the middle of us—of us—” I can’t say it.
“Grinding on each other?” he finishes for me.
My cheeks go hot with embarrassment. “Yeah. That.”
“I wasn’t trying to hit you with an I told you so. More like I couldn’t believe you were trying to get off on me like that. I mean, I know I said you would end up slobbering on me, but I didn’t mean it. I thought you saved all that for Ben,” he says, mentioning my boyfriend’s name like he’s purposely trying to annoy me.
“You want to know the truth?” Don’t do it. Don’t say it.
“Hell yeah, I do.”
“Ben and I have never done it.”
The second the words leave me, I’m covering my mouth with my hand, trying to stuff the words back inside. It’s no use. They’re out. I said them. I said them out loud. To Ash. He’ll make fun of me now. He’ll tell everyone we messed around behind Ben’s back and I’ll be the laughing stock of the school. Ben will publicly dump me and I’ll turn into the enemy. Talk about humiliation.
Ash laughs. Shakes his head. “No way. You’re lying.”
I just stare at him, crossing my arms again. His gaze drops to my chest and I can feel him trying his best to burn a hole through my shirt with his eyes. My nipples harden, I lift my arms a little to cover them, but it’s no use.
He’s smirking.
I hate him.
“You’re not lying.”
I shake my head.
“You two have to at least be feeling each other up on the daily, right? I saw you at the back to school dance.”
“You were at the back to school dance?” I don’t remember him being there.
“Not that you’d notice. You were too busy dancing and grinding on Ben’s junk.” Ash makes a face. “He probably wouldn’t know what to do with your perfect ass if you handed it to him on a platter.”
How can someone make a compliment sound like an insult? It’s Ash’s particular skill. He’s really good at it. “You are seriously so disgusting.”
“Seriously. Seriously. You use that word all the damn time. Doesn’t Ben get tired of that shit?”
“Will you please stop bringing him into this conversation?” My voice rises. If he keeps this up, I will soon be full-blown shouting.
“You’re the one who told me you two haven’t fucked yet.” He shakes his head, collapsing onto the bar stool next to mine. “I can’t believe it.”
“Would you not call it that please?” I sound weary. I am weary. I’ve spent all day lounging in bed feeling sorry for myself and worrying, that I’m completely exhausted.
“What? Fucking? What do you want me to call it? Making love?” He draws the words out mockingly.
“I would never call it that.” I can barely think the words making love without wanting to giggle.
“Boning. Banging. Doing it. Getting laid. Sex. Fucking. It’s all the same, right?” He shrugs, angling his body toward mine. His gaze roams over me, as if he just realized I’m not wearing much, and my skin starts to burn.
“You’re so crude.”
“I’m sure your boyfriend is never crude.” I open my mouth to chastise him and he points his finger at me, cutting me off. “I didn’t say his name, did I?”
He’s got me there. Sort of. “It would never work between us, you know.”
“You really think so?” He sounds surprised.
“I know so.” I don’t, but it sounds good. “Maybe it’s best if we’re just friends.”
Those dark brows shoot up practically to his hairline. “Really? You just want to be friends with me?”
“Yes.” I nod, warming up to the idea. His earlier confession that I had his heart was nothing but a bunch of lies to try to worm himself into my house, and it worked. But he can only get so far, and he’s hit his limit. “Friends are understanding of each other. When one friend tells the other that it’s time to go home, they leave without arguing.”
I stare straight ahead, trying my best not to look at him. I see the blue light of the oven clock glowing—the time says 8:22. My family won’t be home for a while yet, but he doesn’t know that.
“That’s what you want me to do? You want me to go?” I can feel him watching me, yet I refuse to look at him.
“Yes. That’s what I want.” My voice is firm. It doesn’t waver or shake, and I glance down at my hands to see they’re clutched so tight around the edge of the counter, my knuckles are white.
“Okay. I’ll leave.” He smacks the edge of the counter and rises to his feet, exiting the kitchen with a few long strides.
I chase after him until we’re both in the foyer and he’s got his hand on the door handle, his back to me, when I ask him a question. “How’d you get up here anyway? To the lake?”
“What do you mean?” he says to the door.
“I didn’t see your truck.”
“I hid it. Parked it behind a bush just before you come to the circular drive.” He glances over his shoulder at me, his barely there smile irritatingly adorable. “Didn’t want you to spot it and call the cops on me.”
“I would never call the cops on you.” I really wouldn’t. I’m not that mean. Unless he was threatening me with bodily harm or being really aggressive.
“That’s what they all say.” He faces forward, opening the door, then turns toward me once again. “Do friends give each other hugs? The friends I have do. Sometimes.”
“There is no way I’m hugging you.” I roll my eyes.
“A truce hug then? Come on.” He lets go of the door handle and faces me fully, stretching his arms out in invitation. “I’ll leave you alone after this, okay? I promise.”
I’m not sure if he’s the type who keeps his promises. I’m guessing no.
This could be the last time I hug him. This entire encounter has been weird. Confusing. We’re a mess. We would never work, and us going ’round and ’round in circles tonight just proves that.
So what’s the harm in getting one last hug from Ash? It’s just a hug. A brief moment of bodily contact and then I’ll send him away. He won’t bug me again. He’ll get over his so-called feelings for me. He’ll give his heart to someone else or even better, he’ll discover he actually has one, and he’ll forget all about me. He’ll give it to someone else, and he’ll finally leave me alone forever.
Why does that thought make me feel so empty inside?
Deciding it’s do or die time, I walk right into his hug, my arms sliding around his waist, my head resting on his chest. I can feel the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat and I close my eyes when his arms come around me. Slowly. Enfolding me into his body so that we’re snug tight.