Page 70 of A Little Complicated

“I never said—”

“You didn’t need to. I break up with you, and you wind up—” His mouth snaps closed, and he clenches his fists. “That’s not the point.”

“Whatisthe point?” I demand.

“You really want a guy who doesn’t mind you being passed around out there?” He points toward the stage, his muscles bunched and ready for battle.

“I’m not being passed—”

“You said so yourself.” He backs away from me and starts pacing the small area like he’s too amped up to stand still or hold a civilized conversation. “Kissing booths are barbaric and juvenile.”

“I know what I said.”

“Then why are you letting them touch you?” He stops pacing behind the stage and strides closer while my back stays glued to the metal post. The same fire he’s been wielding burns along the top of my head like he’s daring me to look up at him. To see his anger and disgust at what I’d been doing.

My lips fuse together, and I lift my chin, holding his stare, refusing to cower. But my words? My rebuttal? They’re gone. I don’t know what to say or how to feel. He’s right. It’s not like I enjoy kissing random strangers, let alone individuals I might share a class with in a few weeks. But even so, it isn’t Maverick’s job to drag me around like a Neanderthal. He has no right to tell me what I can or can’t do. No, he lost that right the moment he broke up with me.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I finally say.

“You think I don’t know that?” He grabs the side of his face and squeezes, proving how close he is to snapping. He fists his hands at his sides. “Look. You win, all right? Whatever game we’re playing, you win.”

“I’m not playing a game with you, Maverick.” I hate how hurt he looks. How freaking unhinged, all because of a stupid kissing booth. And I hate how it makes me feel like he still cares about me. Like he still wants me. I lick my lips, trying to soften the blow. To soften the divot between his brows and the tension in his jaw. “If it helps at all, the kisses don’t mean anything.”

“So, if it was me?” He steps even closer, causing his chest to brush against mine. “If it doesn’t mean anything, would you kiss me? Let mepayfor it?”

I shake my head. “Don’t make it sound dirty.”

“Itisdirty! It’s—”

“Stop acting like an ass,” I seethe, rising onto my tiptoes in hopes of it making me feel less small. Less inconsequential.

His lips gnash together, and he takes a deep breath. “I can’t watch you out there.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Archer’s—”

“Archer’s cool with it.” He grabs my chin and lifts it, demanding my full attention. “Good for him, all right? He’s always been a better man than me, but I can’t take it, so can you please just…stop?”

The pleading in his gaze almost does me in, but I stand my ground anyway.

“I don’t owe you anything, Maverick,” I whisper.

“You think I don’t know that too? Fuck, Opie. Trust me, I know. But if I was your boyfriend—”

“Yeah?” My heels hit the ground, and defeat settles on my shoulders as I try to pull away from his touch, but he doesn’t let me go. “Well, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” He drops my chin from his grasp like I’ve burned him. “My mistake.”

Turning, he storms away.

24

OPHELIA

“Hey,” I brush my lips against Archer’s cheek as the music blares around us. He’s finally home from his trip, and even though we texted the past few days since the carnival, I’m anxious to see him. To talk to him. To quiet the stupid voice in my head sounding a hell of a lot like Maverick ever since our conversation behind the kissing booth. I debated whether to text Archer about it but decided I wanted to see his reaction firsthand, but I’m seriously second-guessing myself.

Reeves thought it would be a great idea to throw another Game Night, and their place is packed with gyrating bodies, the alcohol flowing like a damn waterfall.

I almost didn’t come. I probably shouldn’t have since I’ve been testy all day, but the idea of seeing Archer, of having his presence quiet the growing doubt inside me, spurred me on. But it’s too early to tell whether or not I’ll regret it later.

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