Page 45 of No One But Us

Chapter 26

ELLE

Maxand I go to yoga together the next day. His presence in this house is a godsend, given that my other two housemates appear to want me gone. When I return, Ginny is in our room with the door locked, so I use the showeroutside.

I wrap myself in a towel when I finish and step out, only to run smack into James. Not a graceful collision, but a full-on crash through which I barely manage to keep my towel around me. For a fraction of a second, his hands are pressed to my bare arms, and I’m remembering the other night before I can stopmyself.

There’s something heated, feverish, in his gaze. And then he jumps away from me like I’m some kind of crazedstalker.

“Jesus,” he snaps. “What thehell?”

I struggle to recover, forcing everything I feel into something that resembles anger rather than agony. “I bumped into you,” I retort. “I didn’t run you over with a car. Why are you flippingout?”

I expect him to back down, but he doesn’t. “And why are you out here in nothing but a towel?” hehisses.

I cannotbelievehe’s overreacting like this. I gesture behind me. “This is a shower, Einstein. It’s what humans do to cleansethemselves.”

“Yes, I’m aware that it’s a shower,” he says. “That doesn’t explain why you think it’s okay to go wandering around outsidenaked.”

“I’m not naked,” I snap. “I can remove the towel if you’re unclear on thedifference.”

He blanches. “No one needs to see you walking through the house likethat.”

I let out an irritated huff. Max isn’t even home, and he doesn’t need to make it sound like I’m inflicting some horrible, blinding vision on people by walking by with my arms and legsvisible.

“You’re an asshole,” I say, and I storm off before I do what I’m very inclined to: drop the towel entirely and let him contend withthathorrible, blindingvision.

The door is still locked when I get upstairs. I pound on it until Ginny answers and ignore the indignant look she gives me as I dress. I only want, in this moment, to be as far from her and James aspossible.

I walk on the beach, ruminating over all of it: Ginny’s anger, and most of all James. He’s treating me like some kind of danger, like a small wild animal intent on causing harm. How exactly am I at fault for what happened? I didn’t pull him into me. I didn’t run my hands through his hair or grab his ass. I wasn’t the one hard enough to breakcement.

I see a guy running in the distance, shirtless and barefoot. He reminds me of James, and that’s all it takes for my anger to revert to the sadness it’s really been all along. All the things I cared about a few months ago—my grades and my career and my internship and Ryan—they feel like weak substitutes, something to fill the time until James Campbell chooses me. And for whatever reason, despite the other night, it appears he never will—ensuring a future full of weaksubstitutes.

The runner comes closer. He has brooding eyes and dark brows and a perfect mouth, and there is only one person alive who possesses those things in James’ precisequantities.

I brace myself for another onslaught of rejection, but instead he slows and comes to a halt a few feet in front of me, lookingtroubled.

“Hey,” he says. He pulls out the shirt he’d tucked into his waistband and wipes his face with it. “I’m sorry. About earlier.” He speakshaltingly.

A thousand questions fly through my mind, and I’m guessing I won’t get the chance to ask more than one ofthem.

“Why are you treating me like this?” I ask finally. I have to pause to avoid that telltale crack in my voice. “You’re acting like you hateme.”

“I don’t hate you. Of course I don’t,” he says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’ve wanted to apologize a thousand times. But there is absolutely nothing I can say. There is no apology that could ever be sufficient, so instead I’ve said nothing, and that’s so muchworse.”

“Apologize?”

“For…what happened. I shouldn’t have… “ He falters again, as if even alluding to it is so painful he can’t bring himself to do it. “I can’t tell you how much I regretit.”

I wince. I didn’t think I could feel worse than I alreadydid.

“How flattering,” Imumble.

He rubs at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it was wrong and… I’ve spent so much time trying to keep you safe, and that I was the one to take advantage of you like that sickensme.”

“You didn’t ‘take advantage’ of me,” I reply. “I’m not akid.”

He flinches. “You’re 19, Elle. And I’m 25. So yeah, that’s taking advantage, whether you see it that way ornot.”

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