Page 131 of Bad Blood

“I pictured being in your house for the first time going a little different.” He chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pockets as his eyes roam around what part of my house he can see.

“I can’t say I pictured you in my house at all.”

“Ouch,” he says as he pretends to stab himself in the heart.

“Point.”

His eyes narrow. “Does that make us even?”

“I’m ahead.” I smirk and grab the handle of the front door, pulling it open. The rain has become a steady stream in the beam of streetlamps across the street. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

Dax glances past me. “Nah, I need to think.”

“In the rain?”

He hangs his head. “Guess it doesn’t matter. I need to figure out which direction Central Park is, and I’ll go.”

I didn’t fully believe showing up at my door was by chance, but maybe I was wrong. A crack of lightning lights the sky, and I jump, the boom of his laughter echoing the crack of thunder.

He takes a couple of steps around me and stops on the landing. Within seconds, his gray shirt clings to his skin, outlining the contours of every muscle.

“You can’t walk home in this.”

He looks at the sky and holds out both hands as he closes his eyes. “It’s refreshing. I’m not scared of getting a little wet.”

I refuse to acknowledge his play on words. He already got one point tonight. I’m not affording him the pleasure of another.

My eyes stay fixed on him, curious about his next move. He cocks his head toward his shoulder, and a smirk lifts the side of his mouth. Somehow, I always get it wrong. I can’t comprehend how he can be so spontaneous and haphazard about everything. I saw a glimpse of this part of his personality the last time we ran into each other, but it’s more exaggerated than I remember.

I shouldn’t care about how enchanting he is or can be. The zing of electricity between us as his fingers graze my hand reminds me that touching is not a good idea. And I don’t have it in me to tell him. I take a step back, creating a couple of feet so I can breathe.

Rain drips off his lashes, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he offers me a hand and asks, “Wanna dance?”

37

Letting Go

Dax

Tuesday, June 6 th

12:41 a.m.

“I don’t like the rain. Or the cold.”

I’m not surprised by her response. She glares at the sky like it’s caused a personal offense, but I take in the earthy, metallic tang as it pounds into the asphalt.

The nostalgic scent reminds me of our summer trip Liam mentioned. And how it always seems to rain when we make it upstate.

“You won’t know unless you try.” I wiggle my fingers, reiterating she should take my hand.

She doesn’t budge.

I reach up to brush away the water that is trickling from my hair and into my eyes.

“I don’t want to be in the rain.” She covers a yawn and heads back to her doorway, droplets of water falling from the ends of her hair onto her shoes.

“Oh, come on.” I grab her hand and pull her back onto the landing, catching her off guard. Her eyes drop to our hands, and she tries to pull away, but it’s a feeble attempt at best. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

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