Page 10 of Revenge Cake

Armaan looks at me pityingly. “She’s understandably…” he tilts his head to the side as if searching for a word, “nervous to agree to go on a date with someone who likes to go to his ex-girlfriend’s house and hold her in bed while she cries.”

I glare at him. “Yeah, thanks a lot for telling them all of my relationship problems before they even met me. Great strategy on your part. Now Leilani thinks I’m a fucking lunatic.”

“You were the one who told her about the crying in bed thing, not me.” He shakes his head. “You did it all yourself, bro.”

“None of it would have even come up if you hadn’t told them everything first. Now I have to undo all the damage you’ve done.”

“It probably won’t even matter. You always find these gorgeous girls who somehow don’t realize something is wrong with you when you tell them you’re in love with them after three days. It’s so annoying.”

“One girl!” I shout, my hand gesturing a “one.” “I told one girl I loved her after three days because I was out of my mind drunk. Thanks to you and Miller and your fucking tequila beer pong! I’m so fucking sick of hearing that story told over and over again.” When a thought occurs to me, I shoot him a menacing glare. “You will never tell Leilani the Cabo story. Are we clear about that?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to tell her. She probably knows just by looking at you. And what do you mean it only happened one time? You’re in love with her already.”

He’s right, but it’s different. I can’t seem to convince anyone that falling in love with Leilani at first sight has more to do with her exceptionality than the fact I’m a relationship sociopath.

“That’s different,” I say.

“Sure it is.”

***

Leilani

Brenna shoots me a sympathetic look from across the table. Great. That means my nervousness is painfully obvious.

I can’t believe I agreed to come tonight. The situation is exactly what I expected. Armaan, Brenna, Kyle, and Mia all huddle together at the other side of our long bar table, leaving me to fend for myself with The Relationship Sociopath.

Sensing his gaze, I dare a glance across the table. My sixth sense was correct. He’s staring with that look, those pouting lips curling at the edges, those heavy lids nearly shutting, like he’s in love with me already.

I fight the urge to glare at him. Why won’t he just leave me alone?

It would be so much easier to resist him if he wasn’t so beautiful with his thick dark hair, tan skin, and angular jaw. If only I could fuck him just once…

But that’s a terrible idea. Then he’d never leave me alone.

He’s far more tempting than I expected from everything Armaan told us, like that wretched Cabo story. It’s easy to see why he’s had so many girlfriends. Logan has that annoying ability to talk to anyone he meets with the same steady friendliness and ease. His pale green eyes are expressive and sincere, alighting his face with warmth. He even seems trustworthy. Then again, there’s a reason they call him a relationship sociopath. Women trusted Ted Bundy too.

“You’re nervous,” that drawling voice says, pulling me out of my head. I clench my teeth as I lift my eyes to meet his. His smile has changed. His eyes are gentler, as if he’s trying to put me at ease. And how like someone without social anxiety to use a line like that to put me at ease. You’re nervous. Oh thanks. I feel much less nervous now that you pointed it out to me. Why don’t you draw attention to the rings of armpit sweat on my dress while you’re at it?

“Yes,” I answer, unsmiling.

“Why?” It might be my imagination, but I catch a hint of triumph in the question, as if he thinks making me nervous is a good sign. A sign that he’s important to me.

It’s time to dispel that assumption.

I stare at him in a moment of indecision, wondering if I should just go for it and bare all to him. What do I have to lose? It’s not like I have to be around him in the future, and this might send him for the hills sooner, sparing me the effort of avoiding him. “This situation is my nightmare.”

“Your nightmare?” I’m delighted by the apprehension in his voice. “What do you mean?”

I glance around the table before meeting his eyes again. “It’s a set up. I’m only here because you harassed Armaan into making me come, and everyone else is ignoring us so that we can get to know each other. For a person with social anxiety, this is a nightmare. I’m under everyone’s scrutiny, and they all expect something of me that I won’t be able to perform. I can’t just get to know you like a normal person would. I’m not capable of it even if I wanted to. I have no social skills. I don’t know how to laugh if you tell a dumb joke, and judging by that ever-present smirk of yours, you’ll probably tell a lot of them. I can’t smile and say ‘oh, she’s a doll’ when you show me pictures of your niece, because I have even less interest in small children than I do in you. If I’m being forced to talk to you, I’d much rather have a conversation about the Coen brothers or super volcanoes, though I doubt you’d have anything to say on either subject that would interest me, and feigning interest is yet another of my social weaknesses. I’d rather you just go away. Go pester someone else.” I turn my head and glance pointedly at Mia.

Logan’s already wide eyes became saucers at that last statement.

“Although…” I start, feeling a twinge of guilt for my harshness. “Maybe you would have something interesting to say about the Coen brothers. Maybe I’m stereotyping you because you have a dumb face. And a dumb voice. And you like superhero movies.”

He chokes out a laugh. “Dude! You’re savage! Apparently, I’m not just weak. I’m also dumb, unfunny, and you have zero interest in me.” He lifts his hand and ticks each item on his fingers, a wide grin on his face. “Is there anything else?”

My lips lift at the corners of their own volition. It’s hard to dislike him when he accepts my rudeness with such grace. It makes me realize that I’ve been using my gaucheness as an excuse to be deliberately mean. I’m compelled to offer some form of an apology. “I didn’t say you were dumb, only that you have a dumb face and a dumb voice, which is completely different.”

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