Page 53 of Take Me, Sir

“I believe you, okay,” he said. “Does that make you happy?”

I scowled. “Ecstatic.”

“You can't seriously expect to drop this on me, and then act like I should be okay with you doing something so...stupid.”

I wasn't sure if it was his word choice or the tone he used, but it did more than rub me the wrong way. “I told you the truth and asked for you to believe me. I never asked you to like it or agree with it. I sure as hell don't require you to be okay with it.”

“I don't understand you,” he said. “We're supposed to be in a relationship, but you clearly don't care what I think.”

“That's what you got out of this whole thing? That because you decided we were going to start dating, you got to control every part of my life?” A little voice at the back of my head said that I might've been being a little hard on him, but I was too riled to back off. “I've done fine taking care of myself for years. I don't need you telling me what to do.”

His eyes narrowed. “Considering I've already seen one man who wasn't pleased with your skill set, I don't believe it's a stretch to assume that you aren't exactly doing a bang-up job.”

I was starting to wish I'd been born a lesbian.

“I already have one big brother, Dean. I don't need another one.”

He took a step toward me, dropping his voice a register. “I don't want to be your brother.”

“Then stop acting like him,” I shot back.

“I just want you to be safe.”

“No,” I argued. “You may want me to be safe, but there's no just about it. You think you know best, so you want me to do things your way. But I had a life before I met you, made my own choices. How would you feel if I expected you to completely change up everything you've done in your life simply because I told you that you should do things my way?”

A muscle in his jaw clenched, and my shoulders slumped. I sighed, all of the fight leaving me. I was too tired to keep doing this. I'd come to LA for a new life, not new complications.

“I don't know why I thought this could work.” I moved around Dean to flag down an approaching taxi. “We're too different.”

I didn't wait for him to argue, didn't wait to see if he even would argue. He had to see it too, had to realize that we'd been fooling ourselves thinking that we could turn a few sexual experiences into something more. Great sex didn't necessarily translate into anything else, and starting a relationship founded on sex was rarely a good idea.

I was supposed to be smart. Hell, I'd just been bragging to Dean about my IQ. Then again, smart didn't always mean wise, so I supposed that trying to make things work with Dean was one of those moments. Now, I would do the smart thing.

We'd gone three blocks before I realized that I didn't want to go home yet. “Can you take me to Santa Monica Pier instead?”

“Sure thing.” The cabbie made a turn. “You from LA?”

“No,” I said absently. “Up north.”

“Ever been to the Pier?”

“Once, when I was five or six,” I said. “Never this late though.”

“It's a whole other thing at night,” he said. “They've got some indie bands doing a battle of the bands kind of thing tonight.”

Between the music and the people, there'd be constant noise. Lights. All sorts of distractions. I'd barely be able to hear myself think.

“Perfect.”

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