Page 1 of Pretty Little Lies

ONE

bay

He’s notready for you to see him yet.

Who the fuck ishe?

That cryptic and vague as hell comment Reeve left me with—before knocking me the fuck out—still lingers heavily in my pounding head.

And I’m not sure if it’s the comment that’s leaving me mind-fucked or that he packs a hell of a good punch that’s making me not think straight because I’m all over the place.

And impressed.

I’m not for the wholehitting womenbullshit—being a battered woman once in my life and all that—but, damn. If Reeve ever needed to handle business, he’s got it. I’m actually feeling like an asshole because out of all the boys, he would’ve been the last one I would’ve bet on to be able to hit that hard.

That’s what you get for judging a book by its cover.

My fingers descend the aching spot of my cheek where he delivered said blackout punch, and everything from last night is a hazy blur but perfectly clear in my head.

Reeve was protecting me.

It makeszerosense because, last time I checked, the boy ran up the chain of the Forsaken Crew.

High up.

Like one of three men who leads it. So, question is…why was it a thing? Why didn’t Reeve cut into them and tell them to fuck all the way off when they were panting like dogs in heat?

While I should be planning a dodgy tactic of stayingawayfrom these boys, I can’t shake away the curiosity. That nothing about last night makes any sense to me.

Who the hell was shooting at us? Is there another damn gang sprouting from the ground and making themselves a new enemy of the Forsaken Crew? And how many more times do I need to remind myself to stay the hell away from these doofs?

A million, apparently.

There’s no world where I would ever allow a man to hit me the way Reeve did. But I can’t help but grant him leniency because the look in his hazel eyes was haunted. As though he was fighting back demons as I felt him tremble against me.

He didn’t want to do it as much as I didn’t want to be front and center stage. So, when he called Torin, it only sparked more questions.

And the last thing I wanted to do was speak to Pretty Boy and hear him bitch at me for running through The Landings again and how many times did he need to tell me said fact.

After my blatant silence, he told me to be agood girlwhile playing along with Reeve’s performance, and it wasn’t like I could stand there and argue all night about it—the prick.

I could’ve.

But the douchebag who kept eye-fucking and asking to tag team with Reeve gave me the fucking creeps. So I took my chances with Pretty Boy and rolled with it.

I don’t know how long it lasted, but I remember staying locked in Reeve’s eyes as he anchored down a calmness where I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Call it being stupidly naive orgood instincts, but Reeve hasn’t steered me into a blanket of confusion or thought process of his next move.

The man was cutthroat clear on what he wanted and what he felt.

He wanted me, whether that meant fucking me and fleeing, or developing a relationship and marrying me.

His words, not mine.

Maybe he and I share the same sentiment of hating any sort of barrier where living freely and with whomever doesn’t come as easily as the rest. And, despite that, Reeve protected me.

It still doesn’t answer questions that arenoneof my business, but it’s clear to me that he held me in high regard.

And that’s more than what I can say about any man besides Levi.

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