Page 57 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“About what?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Needing a moment to get my thoughts in order. Being brave isn’t necessarily my thing. But it’s not like I have time to waste these days. I push my shoulders back and thrust out my tits and say, “You know, for just a friend, you sure do get upset when someone flirts with me.”

It’s obvious the instant his walls go up. How the sharp lines of his face are suddenly set in stone. Not an iota of emotion can escape.

“You’re right—Gael was just playing,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain why you were reacting as strongly as you did.”

He scoffs and shakes his head and says nothing.

“And while we’re discussing it, the idea of me having sex with someone doesn’t exactly thrill you either, does it?”

“That’s me being concerned with your safety,” he says, the brogue thickening. “We talked about this. I made my position perfectly clear.”

“Changing the topic of conversation doesn’t make your position clear. Kind of the opposite.”

“You’re deliberately being obtuse,” he says, talking to some fixed point past my shoulder. “You and I are friends, Lilah. That’s all.”

“So, what, I’m imagining all of this?”

He jerks his chin, which is answer enough. Ouch.

“Okay.” Sometimes you’ve got to let go of things for your own sanity. Such as this conversation. “Thank you for the motorbike ride. I really enjoyed it. I’ll order a car and wait outside.”

He follows me with a frown. “I said I’d drive you.”

“I think it would be best if I found my own way home.”

“What? Why?” he asks in outrage.

“We sort of just covered the why. Let’s talk tomorrow and—”

“No.”

I just blink. “Excuse me?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I heard that. I was just wondering if you could expand on the response a little.”

“No to whatever you’re talking about. I’m driving you home after we talk this through. Now.” He stares down his nose at me andholy shit. It’s like he’s handing down the law. The man couldn’t be more of a pompous asshole if he were standing in a palace and wearing a crown.

“We’re pretty much done talking about it. But why is you driving me home such a big deal, Ali?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Okay. I, um, I’m tired,” I say. “Good night.”

When I reach for my jacket, however, he grabs hold of it too. And he doesn’t let go. We’re having wrestling competitions over clothing now. Which is a totally normal thing that friends do.

“Leaving during a disagreement is juvenile, Lilah.”

“Or, and hear me out here, it’s a chance for both of us to calm down and rethink things.”

“What we’re going to do,” he says, ignoring me completely, “is go back to the living room, sit down, and work this out like two calm, rational adults. Whatever it is you’re upset about.”

“That would be a no from me. And now would be a great time for you to stop telling me what to do.”

“Then why don’t you try listening?”

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