Page 41 of Deviant

“You don’t sound upset that my punk-ass brother is hooking up with someone else behind your back.”

Her expression remains completely placid at the remark.

“Should I be?” She shrugs indifferently.

“Most girlfriends in your shoes would.”

“Then I guess I’m not most girlfriends. It’s his life. I have no authority over him. He can do whatever he wants.”

The fuck?

Her being so nonchalant about getting two-timed irks me the wrong way.

“Jesus, you really don’t care, do you? Then why bother being with the dick-for-brains if you don’t give a shit?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question.” She frowns. “I guess it is what it is.”

“Well, that’s a cop-out if I ever heard one.” I laugh, taking a sip of my beer.

“Like you’re an expert on the subject,” she dares to roll her eyes at me. “What could you possibly know about the complexities of relationships? You’ve never had one in your entire life.”

“And how the fuck do you know that?” I ask point-blank, surprised at her for knowing such an intimate detail about me. “You stalking me, or some shit?”

Even though her cheeks turn bright pink, she maintains that annoying, composed superior air about her.

Like father, like daughter.

“I just know.”

“You don’t know jack shit,” I grumble, hating her for having me so well pegged.

Aside from a few hookups, I never had much time for girlfriends or even dating, for that matter. I was too preoccupied with helping my mother raise Aidan and Nora since my deadbeat father was never around to do his share of the parenting. And then later, when Mom got sick, well… let’s just say I had more important shit to worry about than getting a fucking girlfriend.

“I know enough,” Rowen counters, a little smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, well, I know shit too. I know when you’re aweinstead of anIthat shit means something.”

“And what exactly does it mean to you?” she challenges.

“It means what’s mine stays mine. I don’t fucking share.”

From where I’m sitting, I can see the golden flecks in her eyes shimmering brightly at the notion of what a genuine relationship should look like. It frustrates me how the moon enhances that sparkle, making it even more ethereal. My patience was already paper-thin before she got here, and this topic of conversation is only aggravating me further.

I drink the rest of my beer and place the empty bottle on the table next to its brethren. When a full minute passes by without her saying a word, my nerves become stretched to their full extent.

“If you suspected that your asshole of a boyfriend wasn’t here, then why did you come over at all?”

“To see you,” she states evenly.

“To see me?” I arch a suspicious brow.

“Yes.” She nods.

“Why?”

Again, she goes silent on me, her whole face contorting as she tries to find the right words to explain herself.

“I don’t have all night, Rowen,” I groan impatiently.

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