Page 67 of Bombshells
“You say that. And yet you feel this weird need to protect me. When all I want you to do is pin me down and shut me up.”
“Sylvie,” he groans. “Jesus.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have lunch together.” I stand up suddenly. “I’m happy to be honest with you, but you don’t seem to like what I have to say. And you obviously didn’t spend the last week thinking about me as much as I thought about you.”
I blow out a breath, and then I make myself turn around and walk toward the door. It takes tremendous willpower, though. There’s so much fire in his eyes right now, and it makes my skin feel hot.
And now I’m walking out on spicy chicken and dumplings, damn it. But sometimes a girl has to make a point.
I’m reaching for the door handle when Anton grasps my free hand and spins me around to face him. “Sweetheart, wait.”
My stupid knees go a little squishy when I look up to find a whole lot of heat in his expression. “What?” I breathe.
“It’s not true,” he says in a pained voice.
“What isn’t?”
“That I didn’t spend the whole week thinking about you. Because I absolutely did.”
I swallow hard.
“I just feel really caught.”
“Because of Bryce?” I ask.
“Partly. But that’s not the only thing. Just like Bryce, I made promises to myself this year. To focus on my team and my game. And then there’s the fact that you’re a good friend. You’re important to me. And I’m not boyfriend material. If you don’t believe me, you can google it.”
Good grief. I’m going to be friend-zoned again.
“But then there’s this thing between us. It’s pretty hard to ignore.” He scrubs a hand across his face before leaning against the door.
We’re just inches from one another as he studies me with those unbelievable eyes. And they can’t hide how conflicted he is. Whoever says Anton is a shallow party boy is wrong, damn it. And it only makes me like him more.
“Fuck,” he whispers. And I can tell he wants to kiss me. He wants it almost as much as I do. And—
Someone knocks on the door, and we both startle.
“Hell,” he whispers. “Food delivery.”
I hop away from the door, and Anton answers it. The delivery guy hands the bag to me. Anton thanks him, and then closes the door.
We’re alone again, but the moment is broken.
“I want to stay friends,” Anton says.
“Friends.” Of course he does. Now I’m mad all over again. I open the bag, pluck out one of the dumpling cartons, and shove the bag at him. “Fine. But if you ghost me completely, I’m going to be pissed. I’m keeping these dumplings for collateral.”
“Oh sweetheart. I wouldn’t ghost you.”
“Better not,” I snip. And then I leave before I say anything I’ll regret.
Twenty-Two
The Universal Cures for Heartbreak
SYLVIE
I head home and apply the universal cures for heartbreak—a sexy Netflix series and junk food.
