Finally, I get something other than rage. His eyes change. His entire demeanor changes. “What?”
“The little girl in your gym. Brown hair, brown eyes, rainbow skirt. She was clutching your hand when you walked into my meeting.”
“She’s none of your fuckin’ business,” he growls. And back is the rage. “Absolutely none of your business. If you think she’s your next move, your next contact to fuck with me, then you’re dangerously mistaken.”
“Who do you think I am, Bryan?” I explode under his hands, find some space between us as I blow. “What have I ever done to you to deserve your distrust?”
“You kicked me in the fuckin’ balls, to start with. We’d literally never met, but you listened to the gossip, you’d already made your decision, then you slammed me.”
“I did hear the gossip,” I agree. “Yes, I did. But I have my own damn brain. I was willing to reserve judgment. But the very first thing you said in front of me was how it’d be easier if I was pretty. How you were gonna steal Jackson’s girl, and it’d be a hardship if I was ugly.”
“That was…” He grunts. “Okay fine, I said that. But I was picking at Price. Not you. That had nothing to do with you on a personal level.”
“Yeah? Well, I kicked you in the balls for being so fucking disrespectful. That had everything to do with you on a personal level. You made your own bed, Bryan. You showed me who you were.”
“I was only picking at the prick,” he groans.
Finally, his hand loosens just a fraction against my wrist.
“I was… I hate him,” he adds. “I literally want to slam him against a brick wall every time I see him. He hurt my family, and there’s no coming back from that.”
“And me?” I ask with a sharp snap of defiance. “What did I do? Or is it a matter of guilty by association?”
He gives a short, fast nod. “You’re riding with them, which means you approve of what he did to my sister.”
“I don’t approve of a damn thing. His actions have nothing to do with me. And you!” Now I’m on a roll. “Let’s talk pots and black kettles, huh? Jenna Price is my best friend. She has been since we were born in the same hospital, in the same week, and brought together at all the same playdates. The rumors I’d heard, the opinion I was trying real hard not to slap on you, came straight from the horse’s mouth. You slept with my best friend, you disrespected her and her relationship. Then you bragged about it in public, just to rub it in to her and her family. Where’s your self-respect, Bryan? Is sex not special to you? You’ll fuck anyone, anytime, and if you get a little payback in the process, then great?”
His eyes are feral. Manic… but somehow, also taunting and playful. “That horse’s mouth you speak of? That unwavering account that you put so much stock in? She was the one who cheated on her man. She’s the dishonorable one, but you trust her word so much?” he scoffs. “Jenna Price is a backstabbing, two-faced, spoiled little bitch that gets off on gossip. She never checks her facts, she spouts them off with her own little twist to make out like she’s a victim, and when someone calls her on it, she doubles down and screeches for her brother or her father to fix her problems.”
“You slept with a taken woman!”
“Did I?” he leans closer, and shows me what his stubble feels like on my hypersensitive skin. “Did I really? Or is that gossip?” he pulls back. “Unless you were there, you can’t know.”
“She was there! She told me.”
“What did she tell you?” He flashes a cruel smile. “She would have told you nothing, because she was filthy drunk and unconscious.”
“Oh wow!” I try to buck him away. “That certainly redeems you. She was unconscious. That totally makes me think better of you.”
“She was drunk, making out with someone who was not her man.” He looks around us. “Right about here, actually. Tongue-fucking this dude that knew he shouldn’t have been touching. Her top was off, her pants down. And he was readying to use her up without a lick of remorse. No condom, no conscience, no problem. I removed your friend from a dangerous fucking situation. Saved her from a myriad of STDs and a possible baby. I loaded her into my car, took her someplace safe, and when she was able to go home, I sent her on her way.”
“But… the lipstick?” My voice quivers. “It… she…”
“His wasn’t the first dick I’ve seen in her mouth. She still cheated on her man, and just because I saved her from making it worse, doesn’t mean she should get away with being a dirty slut. I made sure she would tell the truth.”
“You have the entire town thinking you slept with her!”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter to me what everyone thinks.” He leans closer and growls, “Unlike you, Princess, I’m comfortable in my own skin, and the only people whose opinion matters to me already share my last name. The rest of you, those of you who thrive on local gossip, you can suck my cock. But I wonder… do you realize how little we give a shit about your opinions?”
He tilts his head to the side and, when I say nothing, snaps his teeth. “Give me my hat, and we can go our separate ways. I’ll sit in on your business meetings with my family, I’ll keep my mouth shut, and as long as you act professionally, I’ll behave. But if you fuck them over, I’m gonna do more than write my name on your skin. If I find out you’ve trashed my hat, then we have a massive fucking problem.”
“I didn’t trash it.” My voice cracks. It breaks. And my eyes begin to itch.
I’m going to cry in front of this man, and I can’t figure out if I hate him, or think he’s the kindest person in the world. He saved my friend from something disastrous, but added his own flair of asshole just to be a dick about it.
“I have your hat here,” I whisper. I push him back with my hips, wriggle my hand to ask to be released.
With a huff that makes me think of a bull about to charge, he lets my wrist go, and watches closely as I bring my hand down to my purse and slowly open the zipper.
My chest heaves and clambers for oxygen. My eyes burn, and my throat thickens, but then I bring out the Padres ballcap, and gasp when he snatches it so fast that my survival instincts swear his swinging hand is coming to hit me.
He pushes away, finally gives me a few feet of space, and in the shadows, he studies the hat, looking almost… religious about it. Like I’ve reunited him with his child. He studies the brim – bent and curved from years and years of the wearer setting it just right. He studies the slight fray of material on the edge of the brim.
“I swear I didn’t do that,” I choke out. “It was already like that.”
His eyes remain on the hat as he nods. “That was from when I was skating at my house and fell on my face. Hat saved me from gravel rash.” Finally, his softened gaze comes up to me. “But in exchange, I got a nasty case of whiplash. Couldn’t skate for a week.”
“You skate?” I try to chastise myself for not sprinting away now that I’ve been released. “Like, rollerblades?”
“Skateboard. We have a halfpipe in my driveway.”