Page 13 of How to Lose at Love

I know for a fact it is NOT supposed to snow, but still, my body shivers again at the words.

I don’t answer, only stand here debating my options. Yes, I’m pissed off and angry, and yes, I never want to see this guy’s face again as long as I live—Diego’s either.

On the other hand, I’ve never been a glutton for punishment or being so stubborn I can’t see past the nose on my face.

“Fine. You can drive me home. I deserve it.” My chin tips up indignantly.

I know my worth.

I didnotdeserve to have some guy break up with me by proxy in the freezing cold, to get completely caught off guard by some dickhead who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.

I follow Dallas to a big black pickup truck that’s parked at the end of the block, its taillights flashing as we get closer, doors unlocking with a telltale sound.

“Need help climbin’ up?” he asks from behind me, hovering.

I want to swat him away—the last thing I want is him touching me.

“No.”Don’t touch me.

I don’t care if Iamaccepting his hospitality. I don’t want him helping me. He’s done enough to ruin my afternoon already.

My fingers are itching to pull out my phone and call Winnie, but I don’t want to take my eyes off this guy for one second. I’m also tempted to send Diego a message to find out if this is all legitimate, but…

The facts are the facts.

He canceled our date.

Barely touches me.

Hasn’t made any effort.

Part of me stings from the rejection. The other part of me knew all along it wasn’t going to work and we were wasting each other’s time.

And I was right.

“Is he seeing someone else?”

Dallas’s hands are on the wheel and he’s pulling out of his spot. “Who?”

I roll my eyes.Follow along.“Diego.”

“If you’re askin’ if he was cheating on you, the answer is no.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “I don’t.”

That tells me nothing. “You’re operating on a hunch. Got it.”

Staring out the window, I eventually remember that this guy has no idea where I live and I have to give him directions, I tell him to go straight when he gets to the railroad tracks.

“What were you doing in the theater?”

“You little creep.” He laughs instead of giving me a direct answer. “Were you watchin’ me?”

“No.” I roll my eyes.As if.“My coworker was. Get over yourself.”

“Trust me, I’m not under myself.”

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