Page 109 of Until August
Just a mattress on the floor with dark green sheets.
The blinds on the window were broken, and the walls were the same dingy beige as the rest of the apartment.
“I can help you paint the walls,” I offered. “And we can get new blinds. I don’t think they’re that expensive. And maybe…” The words died on my lips when his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a firm line. The look on his face told me I’d said exactly the wrong thing.
His jaw was clenched, and the muscle in his cheek was ticking like he was trying to rein in his temper. “I’ve lived in worse places. There were times when I had less than I have now. There were times when I had more. But I never cared aboutthings, and I still don’t give two shits about material possessions.” His voice was low and steely, making my stomach twist into knots.
“So if it bothers you, then maybe you should only come over here when it’s dark. Then you won’t even notice all the things I don’t have, yeah? Because you and me….” He gestured with his hand between us. “We’re just hooking up. It’sjust sex, Nicola. Not an invitation to bulldoze into my life and poke around in my closet or tell me what the fuck you think I need.”
Before I could respond, he pushed off the doorframe and strode away.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, stifling the urge to scream.
Asshole. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, and maybe I shouldn’t have laughed when he mentioned his jailhouse workout, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it.
I took a few deep breaths through my nose, then stormed out of his bedroom, all set to give him a piece of my mind. But my footsteps faltered, and I stopped to watch him doing press-ups while in a handstand. He made it look so effortless. Like he could do this all day long.
“You want to see my workout? Take a video. That way, you can get off on it whenever you want.”
Suddenly, he wasn’t looking so hot anymore. “You’re an asshole.”
“Always have been. What took you so long to figure it out?”
Because you don’t usually act like this.
I’d never seen this side of him, and I didn’t like it very much.
The guy I’d met at sixteen had bad boy written all over him. Which was part of the allure back then. But now, at thirty-two, I was older and wiser, and I didn’t need to deal with any man’s bullshit. Not even August Big Dick Harper.
“I have enough shit of my own to deal with without you treating me like crap and….” I waved my hand in the air, and when I couldn’t come up with the words, I let out an angry growl and marched right out the door. Then, slamming it shut behind me, I jogged down the stairs, muttering under my breath.
“God, that man is so infuriating. Why had I ever thought this was a good idea?”
I yanked open my car door and threw myself behind the wheel, half-expecting him to chase after me. To apologize for talking to me like that.
If he did, I might apologize for being so intrusive and saying things I shouldn’t have.
But he didn’t chase after me.
He just let me go.
* * *
After driving around aimlessly and replaying the conversation, I ended up on the sofa in Scarlett’s design studio.
It felt like a therapy session.
When I told her the whole story, she smiled, like I’d just told her something good. “Why are you smiling?” I asked irritably. “Nothing I just told you should give you a reason to smile.”
“Sorry.” But the smile was still firmly in place. “It’s just that… it’s been so long since I’ve seen you so worked up over something. Or someone.”
“What are you even talking about? I’ve gotten worked up plenty.”
“Not like this. That old spark is back. I love seeing you all riled up like this.”
“You’re crazy.” I watched her painting a desert scene on the back of a vintage-looking denim jacket. “Have you even been listening?”
She nodded solemnly and painted a sliver of moon above the cactus. “I listened to every word.”
