Page 58 of You Were Never Not Mine

“If it’s freaking you out, then you should probably leave.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and I know what he’s doing. Reverse psychology in the hopes that I’ll get out of here, which is what he’s wanted all along. I can go along with this.

“I will.” I offer him a tiny wave and grab my bag from where it dropped on the floor. “See you around.”

I exit his bedroom without a second glance, releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding only after I shut the door behind me. I run a hand over my hair, hoping I don’t appear too trashed and I tug on the giant hoodie, knowing full well I look ridiculous but I don’t care.

With my head held high, I walk down the stairs, though no one is paying attention to me. Somehow, the house is even more crowded than it was when I first went to August’s room and I scan everyone’s faces, already frustrated. It’s going to beimpossible to find Elise. She wouldn’t hear her phone if I tried to call her, it’s so loud in here.

“Sinclair! Holy shit!”

I turn at the familiar voice, pasting on the fake smile as Tim makes his way toward me. He’s clutching a beer can in one hand and there’s a giant grin on his face. He seems very glad to see me, while I am the complete opposite of that. “Hey, Tim.”

“Elise said you were here but I didn’t believe her.” He pulls me in for a quick hug and I make sure and pull away from him as fast as possible. “What’s up with the hoodie?”

“Oh, I had a minor—accident. Spilled something on my dress and this was the best thing to cover it up!” I am bright and cheery and eager to talk about something else. Anything else. “How are you? Where’s Rafe?”

Tim makes a face. “He took off with Elise.”

“Really?” I’m surprised, but then again, he’s the one who approached her first. I wonder if Tim is jealous.

“Things were getting weird between all of us.” He takes a step closer. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here tonight. I thought we could—talk.”

I am not talking to him. Not when I still have remnants of August’s cum on my lips. Not when the imprint of his hands and mouth and tongue still lingers on my skin.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Tim.” I tilt my head and try to send him meaningful glances but he doesn’t seem to be picking up what I’m trying to put down. “It’s better if we’re just friends, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” He throws his hands up in the air, his frustration obvious and I almost feel sorry for him. But then I remember how he fucked my roommate with his roommate and all sympathy flies out the window. “I thought we could have something and now you’re friend-zoning me.”

“It could never work. You know this.” Pretending I’m not completely crushing his feelings, I change the subject. “Hey, doyou think you could get Elise for me? I really want to head back to our dorm.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he suggests, and I’m shaking my head, cutting him off.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His expression is crestfallen. “Come on, Sin. Don’t be so uptight.”

I don’t like how he calls me Sin. And I definitely don’t like him calling me uptight either.

“Go get Elise for me. Please.” I try to smile, but his expression is sullen and his eyes are dark. Giving off vibes like he’s looking for a fight and that’s the last thing I want.

“No. I’ll take you home. You don’t need her.” He grabs hold of my arm, like he’s about to steer me out of the house, and I resist, trying to pull out of his grip, but he’s surprisingly strong.

“Tim, no—” I jerk my arm extra hard, shocked when his hand falls away from me and I’m about to chew him out when I hear another familiar voice. One that fills me with dread.

“Is there a problem?”

My heart drops into my stomach and I close my eyes for a moment when I realize how close he is to us. To me. August.

Great.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

AUGUST

She literally just exited my room like some sort of dignified queen and now here I am running to her rescue like I’m her knight in shining armor. You could never convince me fairytales were real when I was a kid. I called bullshit on all of them. And while my parents are the most romantic couple I’ve ever witnessed, I’d boldly claim that romance is dead in my withering, hateful soul and I’m okay with it. I don’t need love. All it gets you is turmoil and stomach aches and that constant, nagging feeling that you have to protect someone. That someone depends on you and needs you more than air. Thatyouneed them more than air.

Just thinking about that is scary as fuck.

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