Page 34 of Rebel Romeo

Even though she’d warned me this wasn’t going to be easy, I’d really hoped that the coffee would ease us into the apology. Clearly I was fucking wrong.

The problem was, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was all over the fucking place. One second, I was ready to finger blast her in an alley and the next, I was pushing her to arm’s length.

But I didn’t want to push her away anymore. As much as I didn’t like wanting anyone, I wanted Katherine. And I wasn’t sure how long I could fight those feelings.

“Just take it,” I said, shaking the cup at her. “It’s a peace offering.”

She looked at me doubtfully before reaching out and taking the cup from my hands. “Uh-huh.”

She didn’t take a sip. Didn’t move a muscle. She just stood there, staring at me.

“Aren’t you going to drink it?”

Her eyebrow arched, disappearing beneath golden side-swept bangs. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“This supposed apology you said was coming.”

“I already did!”

“No, you said you fucked up bigtime. You said you’re an a-hole—which, for the record, you are—and you said you warned me of that. No actual apology, though.” She folded her arm, foot tapping against the cement sidewalk.

Fuck me. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you with the… with the, um, payment.” I whispered the last word with a quick look over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening. She had refused my payment that night, sending it right back to me in the app.

Theoretically, I probably should return the pearl panties to her, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. Because I was a sick, perverted fuck.

“I’m not your whore,” she whispered in return, her eyes still fiery.

“I know. Jesus, I know, okay? But I also know you need money?—”

“Not that bad. You and your family think you can just buy anything. Anyone.”

“I don’t!”

“You do!”

I took a deep breath, raking my free fingers through my hair. “Okay. I get it. I’m truly so very sorry, Katherine. Can we please go back to being friends?”

She snorted again. “Friends? You think this is a friendship?”

In truth, I’ve never had a female friend. Not one I wasn’t fucking. “All I know is that we are in this show together. We have to find a way to get along. To make this work?—”

“Because you don’t want to want me. Isn’t that right?” she sneered.

I swallowed against the thickness lining my throat. No point in lying now, right? “That’s right,” I whispered. “Even though I shouldn’t, I want you.”

And you want me too, I thought, taking another drag of my cigarette, forcing myself not to say those words aloud. Saying it would make it too damn real.

It would make her impossible to resist.

She turned around to start to walk away, but I called after her.

“I was wondering if you could help me with my lines,” I blurted out, stopping her mid-stride.

Slowly, she turned around, shaking the coffee. “So it’s an apology and a bribe?”

I sighed in defeat. “Shakespeare is so fucking wordy and I just—I don’t know how you guys do this. How do you remember so much? Blocking and marks and scene orders and costume changes and lines. All the fucking lines.”

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