Page 127 of Holding On To Good

He shoved his empty container aside. Kept his tone even, his lips curled in a smirk. “I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“That’s fair,” she said, holding his gaze. “It’s not like we’re friends or anything, right? So obviously you shouldn’t care what some girl you barely know thinks of you. I guess…” She dragged his empty cup toward her then set the remainder of her cone in it, upside down. “I guess I wanted you to know, that’s all.”

Reed stood. “I gotta get back to work.”

I don’t give a shit what you think of me.

Verity wished she could say the same.

She felt him staring down at her for a moment before he set one hand on the back of her seat. Laid the other on the table near hers, trapping her in the booth with his lean body. He smelled like soap and motor oil and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his hand, so close to hers on the table, how tanned it was compared to her own, his nails short, scars marring his skin. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to trace the bumps of his knuckles, to skim down the length of his fingers.

He leaned toward her and she went still. Alert. He spoke close to her ear, his breath ruffling the loose tendrils of hair at her temple. “I paid for the ice cream.”

The sound of his husky voice had her world spinning and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. “And I thanked you.”

“Not the point. You still owe me. And I’m going to collect. Tonight.”

She gave him a sorry-not-sorry face. “I’m washing my hair tonight.”

“Better do it early. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

He straightened and turned and she scrambled out of her seat after him. “Let me try this again. Maybe if I speak slowly and enunciate clearly, you’ll understand. I… am… not… going… out… with… you... tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Do you have one?”

“Other than I don’t go out with boys unless they ask me? Nicely?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Other than that.”

She shrugged. Nope. No reason she wanted to give, anyway.

He ducked his head. Exhaled softly. Then he shifted closer and the air between them sparked. Her breath locked in her throat.

“Go out with me tonight,” he said, gruff and more enticing than he had any right to be.

And she knew this was as nice as he got.

What did it say about her that it was nice enough?

“I already have plans.”

He jerked back, a muscle working in his jaw. “With who? Frat Boy?”

She frowned. Frat Boy? Oh. Brandon. “No. I—”

“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping back, all traces of niceness gone.

And he turned and headed toward the door.

She glanced at Ian—still fully immersed in the video game—then hurried to catch up with Reed. Stopped him with a hand on his forearm before he reached the door. Kept it there, her fingers sliding down to curl around his wrist. “I’m not going out with Brandon.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to shake her off. That he’d walk away from her for good. That whatever was happening between them was going to end, right here. Right now.

That would be for the best. She needed to stop this before it went too far. Before she got hurt. If she was smart—and she was—she’d let him go.

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