Page 2 of A Little Jaded

He doesn’t know her.

Interesting.

A beat of silence follows until she finally answers. “I’m Raine.”

“Everett, Raine. Raine, Everett,” Reeves repeats.

Raine. If she wasn’t such a dark cloud on my day, I’d say it’s pretty. Guess it’s fitting, considering the circumstances.

“Hello, Raine,” I mutter. My greeting is tight and forced and makes me sound like a dick, but I can’t help myself.

What the fuck does Reeves expect me to do? Shake her hand and ask where her boyfriend is so I can beat the shit out of him? This is ridiculous. I don’t fake date girls. I don’t fake anything. This has always been Reeves’ department, and he expects me to jump right in with both feet?

No, thank you.

Remembering the manners my mother spent years teaching me, I reach my hand out for Raine to shake, but she only stares at it. Like it’s a snake. One ready to strike at any second. It makes me feel like more of a dick.

“Raine,” Reeves interrupts, “Everett can help you with your…issue.”

“Issue.” A quiet scoff echoes past her lips, surprising me. “So that’s what we’re calling him.”

Him.

The asshole.

Great.

“Look, I gotta go.” Reeves takes a step backward, adding, “But, uh, you two chat. Figure shit out. And, Ev? If you need anything, let me know.” He turns on his heel and jogs toward the opposite end of the hall where his girlfriend waits, though I have no idea how long Dylan’s been standing there. She gives him a quick hug, and they disappear from view.

Leaving me alone with a girl I should have nothing to do with.

Fucking promises.

What the hell are we supposed to do now?

Scratching the scruff along my jaw, I tilt my head. “So, uh, I don’t exactly know how this works.”

Her gaze darts from left to right as she curls in on herself. “Neither do I.”

“Do you…wanna talk about it, or…?”

The girl scoffs again. “You know what?” She starts to turn away. “You’re off the hook. I changed my mind.”

“Wait.” I reach for her arm, but she flinches away from me. And fuck, it hurts. The way her body tenses up. The way she assumes I’ll harm her. I don’t even know her. Lifting my hands in surrender, I rush out, “I won’t touch you, all right? Just…wait for two seconds.”

She scowls but stays in place, studying me. “Why?”

It’s a good question. I shift on my bare feet, squeezing the back of my neck as I fight the urge to turn around and let us go our separate ways, even if it would confirm my asshole status.

“I don’t know?” I answer honestly. “Because”—I wave my hand toward her—“I promised my friend I’d step in if someone wanted to hire him since he’s now in a relationship, and you obviously need…help.”

Another scoff escapes her as her eyes drop to gaze at the floor, and she shifts from one foot to the other. “Obviously.”

“What, it’s not obvious?” I push. “You’re wearing sunglasses inside.”

As if only now remembering she’s wearing them, her dainty fingers skate against the dark frames, but she doesn’t take them off. “Maybe I don’t want the world to see what a fist can do when provoked.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not fooling anyone, so maybe you should give the disguise a break.”

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