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“Hard to Handle”–The Black Crows
“Shall we?” Oliver asks when the groups start to disperse.
I sigh and start for the woods on the south side of the lot.
He catches up, a small frown on his face. “What did I do this time?”
“What’s your problem?” I ask. “One minute you’re acting all holier-than-thou, and the next you’re a regular asshole. I mean, which is it?”
His frown deepens. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You told yourbrotherwhat happened on New Year’s Eve?” I demand, seething with embarrassment.
“I didn’t tell him anything about you,” he says, looking at me too intently with those gorgeous eyes. “He asked if we… Y’know…”
His jaw tightens and he keeps walking, scanning the ground ahead.
The silence between us is crackling, our discomfort tangible.
“And you said?” I prompt at last.
He shoots me a fiercer scowl. “I told him no. That’s all I told him, on my honor.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “He made some comment yesterday, like he knew…”
My face flushes hot at the memory of how he felt against me on that balcony, what I did on him, even if he doesn’t know. Does he know?
God, I’m going to drop dead of humiliation before the first hour is over.
Oliver frowns even harder, if that’s possible. “My brother has a different attitude when it comes to women.”
“I noticed.”
“I have a lot of respect for you,” Oliver says. “I wouldn’t say anything that would hurt your…reputation. I know that’s important to you.”
He steps over a fallen tree trunk, stopping to take my hand and help me over. My fingers tingle at the warmth of his touch after he drops my hand, and I scold my body for being so damn confusing. I thought we were still in love with Chase, but here I am, betraying that by looking ahead in hopes of finding another log or branch, just so he’ll take my hand again.
I distract myself by focusing on something else.
“How come your little friend isn’t here?” I ask. “If Lindsey is family, shouldn’t he be here for her during a tragedy, even if they don’t get along?”
“He’s with her brother in the hospital,” Oliver says, leveling me with a look.
“Really?” I ask, drawing back in surprise.
“Really,” Oliver says. “Preston’s his cousin. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I thought their families didn’t like each other. He acted pretty hostile towards Lindsey and threatened her if she didn’t stay away from him.”
“You think he’s a bad person,” he says flatly.
“No,” I protest. “I just think… He seemed a little school shooter-y.”
“He’s not.”
I gauge his reaction from the corner of my eye. “He just got awfully pissed over nothing.”