Page 33 of The Thought of You

As I peer down at Addie, her lean body nearly flush against mine, I do something I should’ve done years ago. “Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper, and as I wait for her answer, my damn stomach churns.

I might as well be standing at the edge of a plane’s open door, ready to freefall without a parachute.

Addie licks her lips, and my gaze drops to them. I witness the tip of her tongue sliding across her plump bottom lip in slow motion, and my throat dries.

She’s still a little tan from the summer. Spending afternoons at the river with her friends, where the sun’s rays gently kissed her skin, did her a lot of good.

But it did nothing to curb this hostility she aims at me day in and day out.

“You dated Evil Emmy in high school. She terrorized me for four years, and you dated her of your own free will. That says everything about your judgment and character,” Addie finally says, but her voice is hesitant and unsteady.

My chest sinks. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry she treated you so badly.”

She dips her head, her mumbling incoherent.

“But that was a thousand years ago, when I was sixteen and dumb, and we only dated for about five minutes. I broke up with her when she tried to get her hairdresser fired for getting loose hair in her eye during a trim.”

“She hasn’t changed much, either. Last week, she scolded Mrs. Goodwin at Bready or Knot for her lemon raspberry muffins being too lemony and raspberry-y.”

“You can still hate her if you want, but it’s hardly enough to hate me too all these years later. Unless you hold the record for the most severe grudge in history. What’s the real reason?” I insist, although I don’t know why. Nothing good will come of this, but something inside me screams to unearth the truth.

“Where do I begin?” Addie narrows her eyes until the blue in them turns gray, and her nostrils flare as some of the fire from before sets her body ablaze again. The rage buzzes off the surface of her skin. “Aside from being irresponsible and careless, your total disregard for other people is as astounding as it is infuriating. You’re praised and complimented for merely breathing. You’re completely ridiculous, and I hate your hair.”

“Is that all?” I deadpan, and while the insults should hurt worse than a punch to my gut, I can’t help the chuckle swirling in my chest, ready to explode.

I mean, my hair? She hates my fucking hair? How am I supposed to not laugh at that?

“Most of all, I hate that you just do whatever you want whenever you want. You are selfish, Owen.”

“And you’re jealous of that.”

“Exactly.” Addie pales. “Wait—no. That’s not what I meant.”

“I think you meant it. You can’t stand those things about me because you wish you were like me. Spoiler alert, angel—you can be.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s not easy, of course, but I could definitely help you loosen up.” I smirk.

“Not in a million years.” She folds her arms over her chest, and her hands brush against my abs in the process.

My muscles tighten from the small contact, and my blood boils.

Her smart mouth drives me wild, and it’s mere inches from mine. I could kiss some sense into her… or it would just give her yet another reason to despise me.

“What about a million and one years?” I venture, dropping most of my amusement. “I’m a patient guy.”

Her head is angled upward, her eyes on mine, but it doesn’t feel like she’s actually looking at me. Her expression sinks into one of sadness. “I don’t get to be reckless. We already have one of those women in my family, and the last thing I want is to be like her.”

The dark shadow passing over her smooth features pierces my chest, and the urge to dissect every piece of her fucking rips at me.

So many questions bounce against one another in a tornado of curiosity in my head, but she doesn’t give me a chance to voice them before she yanks the door open.

Instead of disappearing through it, though, she twists around again. “Do you really help your sister with her new business? Or do you show up just to drink all her wine?” She tilts her head to the side, her skepticism loud and clear.

My eyebrows draw together. “I actually help. I take care of the books, and the other day, I even fixed her bathroom.”

The only thing she offers in return is a hum. It’s not a sarcastic or a mocking sort of hum, either. It’s almost as if she’s… surprised. Dare I say, impressed, even.

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