Page 20 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Any dates recently?” I ask without thinking, steering our conversation in the worst possible direction. This is why I hate small talk.
“Not this week, no. Been too busy thinking about you,” he says without a hint of sarcasm. I don’t have an appropriate reply to that, so I keep my filthy thoughts to myself while I finish my food. Thankfully he takes the hint and shuts up too, but after a while it’s weird sitting here in silence across from him.
“What’s wrong with you then?” I ask, cleaning off my hands with one of the lemon scented wipes they always give you here.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you like this?” I sweep my open palm back and forth in front of him. “You’re apparently drowning in women but never date, so you must be afraid of commitment. Why?”
“I’m not afraid of commitment,” he baulks.
“Liar.”
Rob shoves a nacho in his mouth and leans back, arms folded while he eats. “Dad shit, probably. He left before I was born, so it was always just me and my mum and my Auntie Sheila. I hate the thought that I could turn out like him, so I don’t even take the chance that I could do that to someone.”
Wow. He got deep real fast. “That’s very self-aware.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
I walked into that one.“Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“Sorry, I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just curious. I’ve never met a woman who’s like me. You know, happy to keep emotions out of it. You don’t want love, happiness, family, all that jazz?”
“My dad didn’t want me either,” I answer, stiffly. That’s all he’s getting. I don’t tell him I’ve watched men hurt my mum my entire life. I don’t tell him that the first time I liked someone enough to call him my boyfriend, I caught him cheating within days. I don’t tell him my sister got out of it all unscathed while I’m a walking pile of trust issues with a hardened heart. I just tell him what I have.
“Kara and Megan are family to me. I love my life, I have a great job, I get laid plenty, and I love myself way more than anyone else ever could. Why would I need more than that?”
“Fucking hell. You’re something else.”
When Rob asks if he can walk me home, I relent. It’s not too far and, against my better judgement, I am enjoying his company. We swap stories as we walk about where we like to drink, where we’ve had the most success meeting people. It makes me wonder how, just like Megan said, our paths haven’t crossed before.
“Why aren’t you trying to get me into bed?” I narrow my eyes and ask when we reach my door.
“Who says I’m not trying?” He steps closer, presses his hand against the wall above my shoulder, and just like that, Rob Cocky Bastard Morgan is back. Before I can push him away, his other hand catches my wrist, and the sensation of his thumb against the soft skin there disarms me. “You know, I could come in if you want. We could call in sick on Monday and spend the last couple of days really losing that bet in style.”
It’s a tempting offer. A two-day fuckfest would definitely lower my stress levels, but I never do sleepovers, I don’t bring men to my house, and I’m certainly never doinghim.
“Ah, but if we do that, you’d win. And I don’t lose. Ever.”
I move to step away, desperately needing some space between us, but he’s got that maddening way of knowing what I’m going to do before I do it. He slides his hand around my waist, tugging me closer while pushing me back until I’m pressed right up between him and the wall.
He looks down at me, his eyes scanning my face, the tip of his finger reaching out to stroke a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Hattie. I promise you, we’d both win. Multiple times.”
My eyes flutter closed as goosebumps prickle at the back of my neck. He tilts his hips forward, pressing into me just enough to feel the hard length of him behind his sweatpants. “I know you want this as much as I do.”
I roll my eyes and try not to smile or push my hips back.
“Invite me in,” he whispers, hot against the shell of my ear.
Resist, Hattie, resist!
“You need to go.” I brace my forearm against his chest and fish my keys from the front pocket of my bag, squirming to turn away and unlock the door. Squeezing through the gap, I close it before he can follow, leaving him out on the street, and me gasping for air in the empty hallway of my building.
Jesus Christ. Two more days. I can manage two more days.
Chapter 7
Rob
