Page 117 of The Casualty of Us
“Yeah,” I call back absently, heading straight for the bathroom doors at the foot of the bed. “Fine.”
Knowing that if I don’t get some space for a few minutes, I might give in to that temptation to lose myself in him. Let someone else take control for a while. Let myself soften until I break down and cry about how fucking scared I really am.
I don’t know if I can afford to lose it right now, that edge. I’ve been fighting battles on every front all summer and need a moment to reconcile everything. To figure out just how badly I’m going to need each of these things and how they stack up in my head. Knowing that I’m fucked no matter which way the scales tip, because he’s already here and I can’t do what I should now.
Ready or not—here comes round two.
No take-backs.
I’ve been patient so far, but don’t think I haven’t missed you.
Locking myself in the bathroom so that I don’t go running right back out to him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OPHELIA - AUGUST 2013
“He quite literally flew thousands ofmiles because you drunk dialed him.”
“Yes,” I sigh wearily. “That’s like the tenth time you’ve said it.”
“I’m just saying,” Lisette scoffs, snark in full force from where she’s standing next to me mixing our drinks in the Bettencourts’ white and gold contemporary kitchen. “You couldn’t get most grown men to do that.”
“I know,” I snap back, darting my eyes around nervously as the crowd from tonight’s party continues to grow. “Again, like the tenth time, can we drop it now?”
She shakes her head at me, giving my gin and tonic a stir before holding it up with a lifted brow and another unnecessary reminder. “And he came bearing gifts.”
“I know,” I hiss.
The one currently around my neck being the source of another minor meltdown before I put the damn thing on tonight. Pairing it with a strappy white sundress and sandals and lying to myself that it all doesn’t mean as much as I’m making it out to.
All those carefully laid arguments and decisions I made with myself throughout an afternoon of trying and failing to keep himat arm’s length being blown to pieces the second he stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower with only a towel hanging low on his hips. I decided to come downstairs then.
“Freckles.” I spin around and look up at him, taking in the white T-shirt that stands out against his skin. “Thought we could match.”
“Cute.” I scowl, seeing the pretty grin and mischief in his eyes that has me snapping. “Stop that.”
“Matching?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t think I do.” He lifts a brow, bracing a hand against the counter and leaning a little closer to me. “Why don’t you tell me?”
What were we talking about?
Damn. His hair is still kinda damp.
“God,” Lisette gags, coming up beside me. “Would you two just get a room already?”
A choked noise leaves me before I can stop it, cheeks heating instantly as she smiles up at Hayes.
“Flynn.”
He flicks his eyes to me once, curiosity over my choice of companions front and center like it has been all day, but he still gives her a polite nod. “Lisette.”
“Anyway.” She takes a sip of her drink, turning to me. “I’m going to see if Graham wants to play beer pong and leave you to…” A smirk lights up her face, and she trails off purposefully before winking. “This.”
Bitch.
