Page 29 of Bitter House

“If you say so,” he teases, sitting down on the couch again and leaning backward, one foot on the marble coffee table.

“I’m serious. I didn’t like her being here.”

“Or any of the other girls I brought home.” One of his dark brown brows quirks, and I have the sudden urge to lunge forward and press it right back down.

“She was cruel. She started rumors about me. Teased me.”

His eyes narrow, jaw dropping, and I can practically see the gears turning as he processes what I’ve told him. “Wait. Are you serious?”

I press my lips together, giving him a look that says I’m not in the mood to play. “Come on, you knew she did.”

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I never would’ve…” He looks down. “I punched Cory over talking shit about you. Do you really think I would’ve brought her here—that I would’ve been dating her at all—if I’d known she was doing the same?”

The seriousness in his voice startles me. Could he really not have known that was happening back then? “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago. I just thought you were obnoxious with all the girls you brought home. Security was important to Vera. We didn’t need to have strangers in the house.”

“Oh, come on. Vera told me herself that it was fine for me to have people over, otherwise I would’ve never done it. Mom wouldn’t have let me and you know it.” He leans back farther with a cocky grin that makes my blood boil. “Besides, they weren’t strangers. I’d say I knew them pretty well.”

“Yeah, well, you knew most of the girls at our school pretty well.”

He grins at me. “Sure, but not the cactus across the hall.”

“I never should have told you that.” I cover my eyes with one hand.

“Too late now.”

Looking back up at him, I narrow my gaze. “I wasn’t jealous. I just happened to think you chose your girlfriends horribly.”

He turns on the couch until he’s facing me, one leg tucked up under him, mirroring my position. If either of us move an inch forward, our knees will be touching.

“Okay, one, most of them weren’t my girlfriends. And two, who would you rather me date? Someone like you?”

“Would that have been so bad? Someone who actually cared about you? Who cared about something other than sleeping with you, I mean? You were cycling through girls back then so fast, and no one cared. Would someone like me have really been so boring?”

He snorts, but there’s nothing cruel in his eyes or tone. We’re having fun now. “Someone so prim and proper she probably hadn’t been kissed yet? We both know you wouldn’t have known how to handle me at that age. But, for the record, I wasn’t using those girls back then, and they weren’t using me. We both got what we wanted, simple as that.”

“Meaningless sex.”

“Among other things.”

“Like?”

“Distraction. Attention. Probably the same reason you were dating whatever guy you were dating around that time.”

“I wasn’t dating anyone. Like you just said, I was a prim and proper girl who’d never been kissed, remember?”

Something dark flashes in his eyes. “When did that change?”

“When did I stop being prim and proper?” I laugh.

“When did you have your first kiss?”

My cheeks are suddenly an inferno as shock sweeps through me. I hum, staring up at the ceiling to hide it. “Sam Kellerman. I was”—I think back—“seventeen. He kissed me at prom.”

His face is stoic as he nods and takes another drink. “And? How was it?”

“Uneventful,” I admit. “Though not at the time.”

He chuckles.

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