Page 115 of The Casualty of Us
“What about the necklace?” His fingers pause their path on my face, and he cups my cheek with some of that intensity seeping back into his eyes. “The truth, O.”
The truth….
“I love it,” I croak, that knot in me unraveling a bit more with the truth and leaving too much there. “Really.”
“Then why do you look sad, baby?”
And I don’t know whether it’s the baby or the way he’s wrapped around me or the fact that for the first time all summer…I don’t feel like something is strangling me, but it leaves me hiding the sob that’s trying to escape. “N–nothing.” I hiccup, dropping my gaze and attempting to pass it off. “Just hungover, obviously.”
“O.”
“Wait—” My panicked brain latches onto a memory of last night, or more specifically, the thing that had sent me over the edge. “Where did you get this? Why are you here?”
“Rome.” He answers easily. “I was coming back for your birthday any—”
“Nope.” I push at his shoulders, stomach churning as reality sinks in. “You don’t get to come here with—”
“Ophelia.” He lifts off me immediately, face falling as I sit up. “What—”
“And pretend I don’t know exactly what you’ve been up to—”
“Hold on—”
“Like I said, no hard feelings—”
“Ophelia.” He lifts a finger to my lips, cutting me off and making my neurons misfire in one fell swoop. “The next words out of that mouth better be the reason you’re mad at me, or else I won’t show you the second tattoo.” My lips part against his finger at that, and the spark in his gaze lets me know he caught it. “Now tell me what I did to make you sad.”
Fuck.
“Nothing.” I lift my chin stubbornly as he drops his hand, practically daring him. “I’m not mad because I told you that it didn’t mean anything.”
“Wait.” His eyes narrow on me. “Do you think I messed around with someone?”
I shrug, pulling a face at him and hardening myself for the blow. “I didn’t say it.”
“You didn’t have to,” he shoots back, some of the tension leaving his face in the pause that follows before his voice drops low. “I didn’t touch anyone, O, not one girl all summer.”
I freeze at the statement, blinking at him as that sense of catching up hits me all over again and my heart starts to trip over itself with it.
“Wait…” He trails off. “You said something about Cheyenne.” His face starts to fill with something like amusement. “Tell me something, Freckles.”
I purse my lips when he pauses, refusing to play along.
“In all the research I’m guessing you did, did you happen to pick up on that she’s a lesbian?”
My mouth pops open, horror setting in because…no, I definitely did not. Didn’t have time to properly deep dive on her individually when I’ve got so many other balls in the fucking air that—
“So does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“No.” I scowl. “You could just be saying that.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Want me to call her?” He tilts his head at me, challenge clear. “She’s always been like a big sister, so she actually can’t wait to meet you.”
“Goddammit.”
Oh fuck…it’s worse than the blow, I think.
