Page 133 of Tell Me Something True

“Yeah, well, as I’ve proven several times now, I’m not always smart. Not around you, anyway. If I was, I never would have texted you that time. I wouldn’t have asked you to get ice cream. And I never, ever would have told you any of those things that night at the lake. But it seems I’m rather inept when dealing with you. And the way you make me feel.”

She shouldn’t be telling him that, any of it.

And he sure as hell shouldn’t ask her for more.

But selfish bastard that he was, he couldn’t stop himself.

“How do I make you feel?”

“Reckless. Weak.” Her mouth thinned. “Stupid.”

“There is nothing,” he said, low and husky, “nothing weak or stupid about you.”

“If I was stronger, I would have kept right on walking to my car the moment I saw you out here waiting for me. Hearing you say the things you’ve said—that you’re an expert on me and that I’m brave and smart—standing this close to you while you look like the poster boy for sexy mechanic. I mean, really? The tattoos, the biceps, the loose hair? God. Come at me with all guns blazing, why don’t you?”

It wasn’t a surprise she liked what she saw. The attraction between them wasn’t exactly subtle.

He should ignore it.

Instead, he crossed his arms and flexed his biceps.

And got an epic eye roll for his trouble.

“Seeing you,” she repeated flatly, “hearing the things you say, seeing the way you look at me makes me want to throw caution, my pride, and any and all self-respect I might still have to the wind if that would mean you’d take a chance on me. On us.” Her voice dropped to a low, ragged whisper, but her gaze remained steady. Strong. “Pretty stupid, right?”

His heart pounded so hard, it echoed in his ears. His mouth dried.

This was it. His chance to take back all that bullshit he’d told her at the lake. To tell her he’d lied to her that day at Tabitha’s when he’d said she was easy to walk away from.

His chance to fix things.

But what good would that do? She wasn’t staying in Mount Laurel, no matter what she said. She was just nervous about going away to school. Eventually she’d settle in at Ohio State. She’d have experiences and friends and a life away from their hometown.

Telling her the truth would only make him start to think the same things she was thinking.

That he’d willingly give up his pride and self-respect for the chance to be with her.

Except he didn’t have five older brothers ready to catch him if he fell.

When he fucked up, there was no one in his corner to fix his mistakes for him. No one else to blame. No one who’d pick up the pieces if he fell apart.

If he broke.

“Yeah,” he said, but his voice was too low, too rough, too full of regret and self-pity, and he had to stop. Clear his throat. “That is pretty stupid.”

She flinched, but it was fast.

And replaced with a curled-lip, up and down look of disgust.

Like he was dog shit under her royal foot.

“Luckily,” she said, calm and cold and completely over him, “there’s a difference between doing something stupid and being stupid. And you were right. Again. I am smart. Smart enough to know that this?” Stepping forward, she gestured between them. “Has to stop. So count me out of whatever game it is that you’re playing. Because I’m getting really tired of losing. And I’m no longer all that sure the prize at the end is worth winning.”

Her words were quiet. Sincere.

And tore through him.

This was what he’d wanted, he reminded himself. For her to realize he didn’t deserve her time or attention. Wasn’t worth her honesty and courage. That he’d never be able to live up to whatever fantasy version of him she’d dreamt up in her head.

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