Page 68 of Collision
“Don’t compare me to them,” he says sternly. “I don’t promise anything to anybody. The girls I fuck know exactly who they are dealing with, they know what I want from them, and they know that, whatever it is, it won’t last.” His coldness is disconcerting. Yet part of me admires his honesty. He doesn’t pretend to be someone he’s not just to please other people.
On the other hand, it is alarming to know that sex really is all that matters to him.
“How about you?” I try to change the subject because we have talked about me far too much. “What’s your relationship like with your parents?”
Suddenly he frowns. The surly expression on his face is the same as the one he wore when I tried to ask him about the scar. “None of your business,” he snaps, hopping off the counter and heading into the living room.
“None of my business?” I retort irritably, after catching up with him.
“There’s no need for you to know,” he says resolutely.
“You asked me, though.”
“You could have chosen not to answer if you didn’t feel like it.” I don’t know what’s more annoying, his biting voice or his punchable face.
“So you are allowed to ask and get an answer, but I’m not? That’s not how it goes.”
“Stop pushing.” He glares at me, and for a moment I catch a glimpse in his eyes of some emotion he is trying to suppress. Anger? Sorrow? Resentment, perhaps? “You’re not missing anything anyway.”
“Fine.” I tighten my lips into a thin line and cross my arms over my chest. “So, now that we’ve said everything we have to say to each other and you’ve seen my house and learned all about my family’s flaws, it’s time for you to go,” I say curtly.
“Are you kicking me out because I won’t answer your question?” he asks with a sarcastic smile.
“I am kicking you out because my mother will be back soon and, believe me, you don’t want to be here when that happens. Especially in your condition.”
He frowns and peers down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I can smell the weed from here,” I say disgustedly.
“I haven’t smoked anything, I’m clean.” I believe him, but he is imbued with that frat house smell.
“You may be clean, but your clothes aren’t. My mother would go crazy if she found me at home with a boy who isn’t Travis, especially one who is covered in tattoos and smells like weed and Jack Daniel’s. She would immediately call a rehab facility and have you committed,though not before having you bludgeoned by the orderlies,” I calmly explain to him.
He looks at me dumbfounded. “Your mother doesn’t need a therapist; she needs a psychiatrist. I’m starting to get seriously concerned for your well-being. Is it safe for you to live here?”
I laugh out loud. “With my mother, nothing is certain, but I’m not taking any risks for now.” After a moment of silence, I continue, “Thomas…”
“Yeah?”
“How did you know where I live?”
He walks over to me with a mocking smile and touches my chin. “Friends of friends…” Then he walks past me and heads for the hallway, where he stops to look at the antique paintings hanging on the wall.
“Which friends of friends?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’d like to know. Do you know who shows up on someone’s doorstep without that person having given them their address?”
“Who?”
“A stalker,” I retort dryly, making him laugh under his breath.
“Maybe I am a stalker, have you ever thought of that?” He turns to me with a mock-intimidating look.
I watch him with narrowed eyes, playing along with his game. “You are quite a weirdo, aren’t you? You have wild mood swings, you show up at my house in the middle of the night, you attend my classes, everywhere I turn I find you.” I advance on him. “You wait for me in blind corners of hallways to make sure that I’m okay, you defended me in the garden even though no one asked you to. Tell me, Collins,” I continue, standing right in front of him. “Should I be worried?”
He steps forward, closing the distance between us. “Oh, you should definitely be worried. But generally, I don’t like to harass anyone who doesn’t want to be harassed. I like consent.” I hear an edge of provocation in his voice. “You should know that.” I blush and avert my gaze. Why does he make me always feel so exposed?
