Page 44 of Give Me Love

“Give it to me,” he says, taking it from my hands. I follow him to the cashier. This thing costs more than I have, but I’ll just put it on my credit card and Karen can pay me back a little at a time. I go to grab my card from my wallet and Bryce puts his hand on mine. “Stop.”

“Bryce, I’m not letting you buy this.”

“Don’t piss me off, Kat,” he says. I narrow my eyes and see the cashier shift uncomfortably. Not wanting to make a scene, I exhale and put my wallet back up. By the time he puts his card into the machine and gets his receipt, I’m fuming. How dare he talk to me like that. This time I’m walking in front of him.

He unlocks the car doors and I climb inside, angerly buckling my seat belt as he puts the coffee machine in the back seat. Bryce slides inside himself and starts the car, shifting it into reverse after. I look out the window as we pass by traffic.

“Are you pissed off?” he asks.

I turn back to him. “What would give you that idea?” I roll my eyes. He looks back at the road, annoyance clear in his tone.

“I offered to take you to get a new machine. Why wouldn’t I pay for it?”

“Because it’s not your place to.”

“Why do you have such an issue letting people help you?” And that comment resonates somewhere deep. Ricocheting off the place inside of me that holds onto years of suppressed feelings and antics I’ve adapted from the nightmare that was my childhood and teenage years. I was the girl in a full house, yet I was completely alone. I push people away so I don’t get hurt. I don’t ask for help and I don’t want it. I got where I am because of me.

“I don’t have an issue with people trying to help me.” I throw the lie out like it’s not one and I don’t even care. The thing that bothers me right now is how this guy hardly knows me, yet it’s like he has always.

He glances over with a curved brow as we pull back up to Mugs & Books. Frustration sits like a brick on my chest and I’m wondering if this friendship is worth the trouble it’s starting to become. I also don’t appreciate him calling me out on my shit, but I’m not going to admit that.

I get out and he does too. As I walk around the car, just as Bryce turns around with the box in his hand, I see Becca heading to the door to open it for us. I reach out and grab the box. He looks thrown off, but he lets me have it.

“I’m not looking for complicated right now,” I say. His eyes widen a tad. “So, if this friendship is going to be that way, then maybe it isn’t such a good idea.” I shrug like I don’t care either way, but as I say the words, something in me wishes I could take them back. “Thanks for the coffee machine.” I walk away from him just as Becca unlocks and opens the door for me, leaving him standing there with an expression I can’t read, but shit, what’s new with this guy?

ChapterNine

Bryce

Fucking hell. I stand by the car as Kat stalks inside carrying the heavy box and a thought crosses my mind. I never had my coffee. My feet move without thought. I look at the girl holding the door open and catch up to the pretty woman in jeans that make her ass look fantastic.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I take the box back from her.

“I never had my coffee,” I reply, walking behind the counter and placing the box down.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

I turn back to look at her. “Actually no.” I pull a drawer out, not finding what I need.

“What are you looking for?” she asks as I open another drawer.

“Scissors.”

“Over there.” She points. I grab the scissors from beside the cash register and go to open the box.

“Well, are you going to move the old machine so I can hook this one up, or are you just gonna stand there?”

I look over at her before cutting the tape.

She shakes her head and tosses her hands in the air. “I guess I’m going to move the old machine.”

I smile to myself.

“Becca, this is Bryce,” Kat says dismissively.

“Nice to meet you,” she replies. The poor girl looks confused and unsure what to do here. Kat and I act as if no one is around. I find myself wishing there wasn’t. I’d like to lift her smartass up onto this counter and show her how complicated I can make things.

“Pleasure,” I mumble.

---