Page 34 of How to Break My Heart
Aston’s back is toward me. He doesn’t say a word as I stand in complete silence. My eyes scan the room, noticing it hasn’t changed one bit. Once, Maddy made us sneak in here to steal some money from him so we could go to the movies. I remember the moment so vividly, the way I stood frozen with my breath caught in my throat from the fear of being caught.
His phone begins to ring, and the thought of him answering another call while our conversation remains unfinished is enough to make me exhale loudly.
“Madelina,” he answers in a tired voice, placing the call on speaker.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, worried. “I had to rush to the city, but I heard you on the phone all night.”
“Yes,” Aston replies, looking directly at me. “Everleigh is at the house, and we are just about to sit down to discuss some details.”
“Thank God. I’ll be back tomorrow. See you guys then.”
The call ends, but our argument hasn’t.
Aston turns his back to me again, this time staring out the window. If I thought he was rude before, I obviously haven’t seen just how much of a jerk he can be.
“I’m giving you one more chance,” I warn him. “You either want to do this for your sister, or you don’t.”
“You make it sound so easy,” he says in a low voice.
I place my hands on my hips. “I’m sorry spending time with me is such a drag. Do you really hate methis much? This is all for Maddy!”
Slowly, he turns around to stare into my eyes. His gaze is penetrating, so much so that I desperately want to spin away, but his pull is much stronger than I care to admit. A fluttery, empty feeling sits in the pit of my stomach.
His eyes look almost as if they’ve turned dark as he whispers, “Everleigh, you have no idea what I would do for my sister.”
Every time he says my name, my chest pounds uncontrollably, leaving me breathless.
And now, I have no idea what to think or how to feel.
“I… I think we should—”
“I need to shower,” he interrupts, then begins unbuttoning his shirt.
Is he for real right now?
I let out a huff. “We aren’t finished talking.”
“I’m more than happy to carry the conversation into the shower.” He observes my reaction, and his smug expression is annoying as hell. “I mean, this is important, is it not?”
“I don’t get you, Aston. One minute I think I can work with you, and the next, you remind me why men are assholes.”
“Jerk,” he corrects me with a serious expression. “I believe you called me a jerk. And by the way, I’d like to add that your so-called theory is incorrect. I can prove it if you’d like to join me in the shower.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Wait, what theory?”
“Guys who drive Porsches have small dicks,” he states smugly. “I’m more than happy to prove just how wrong you are.”
My eyes widen in disbelief, and at the same time, my cheeks burn with mixed rage and embarrassment. “We’re done,” I tell him. “I have a wedding to plan, and it’s obvious you get off on making my life hell. Goodbye, Aston.” I storm out of the room, rushing down the stairs with a desperate need to lock myself in my car.
The moment my driver’s-side door closes, I let out the breath I’ve been holding in.
He will be the death of me.
Despite my animosity toward him, I can’t ignore the fact my mind pictured exactly how he would look inside that shower.
My hand grips the steering wheel tight as if it holds some magic power to make this all go away the tighter I squeeze.
But nothing, I mean nothing, will erase my wandering thoughts.
