Page 14 of Fight or Flight
“That doesn’t mean I don’t use it,” he says conversationally. “It just means I haven’t used it when you’re in here.”
“Do you really think any of this is going to make me leave?” I toss the athletic wraps next to the water bottle I stashed on a nearby bench. “Because this shit doesn’t work on me.”
“What shit?”
“Being an annoying asshat.”
“I’m literally just standing here and trying to have a polite conversation.” He shakes his head like a disappointed teacher. “Sounds like someone’s a wee bit hostile tonight.”
I cross my arms and shoot him a flat look. “You know I’m not going to move out of principle now, right? I can stand here all night if I have to.”
Something dark and wild flickers in his eyes, momentarily chasing away the easygoing look he always seems to default to, but it’s gone before I can even attempt to figure out what it was.
“I should test you on that and see how long you can hold out.” He yanks off the ratty tee he has on and holds it loosely in one hand. “Because you have no idea how stubborn I can be when someone challenges me.”
I force myself to keep my eyes on his face and not check out his ridiculous body.
The Hawthorne twins are two of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen, and they know it.
Not only do they look like cover models with their glossy dark hair, perfect bone structure, and icy blue/gray eyes, but they can also put most fitness influencers to shame. And as far as I can tell, they have matching full-sleeve tattoos, giving them that bad boy look that everyone seems to go crazy for. Even just standing there in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and plain sneakers, Jace looks like he just stepped off the set of a photo shoot, not like he’s getting ready for a midnight workout.
“I mean, same,” I say. “You think you have a monopoly on being stubborn? Bitch, please. I’d win against you every time.”
He shoots me a smirk that’s both annoying and dismissive and only serves to piss me off even more. “You think so?”
“I know so.” I rub one hand through my damp hair to push it back from my forehead. “Now are you done being an annoying asshole?”
He shoots me a grin that sends a little rush of something I can’t identify through my chest. “Never.”
That weird heat melts away and is replaced by red-hot anger that’s as familiar as the funk I’ve fallen into.
I don’t even know why I’m angry right now. It’s almost like it’s a Pavlovian response to just being in the same airspace as him—a glimpse of the back of his head or even just hearing hisvoice in a crowd is enough to piss me off. And it’s not like this kind of back and forth is unusual for us or anything. I do my best to avoid Jace like the plague, but when I can’t, this is exactly how he always acts when no one else is around.
“Do you get off on being this way?” I ask when he just keeps standing there and smirking at me like the douchenozzle he is.
“On being what way?” He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Like I said, I’m just trying to have a friendly conversation with a fellow brother. You’re the one who keeps calling me names and saying I’m annoying when all I’ve done is stand here.”
I shoot him a smirk of my own. “Just standing there, huh?”
“Yup, just standing and waiting for you to move your butt out of my spot.”
“The spot you only want so you can get a rise out of me?”
He huffs out a soft laugh that’s somehow melodic and sinister at the same time. “I don’t have to try to get a rise out of you, darlin’,” he drawls. “You do that on your own without any effort on my part.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff. “Like you don’t make it your life’s mission to piss me off as much as you possibly can.”
He studies me for a few beats, his entire demeanor shifting from “frat boy without a care in the world” to how I imagine a serial killer picking his next victim would look.
“Sorry to disappoint, but you really don’t factor into my life as much as you think you do.” He runs one hand through the long strands of his hair and flips them from one side to the other with a casual flick of his hand.
The change in him is stark, and I’m not sure what to do with this version of Jace. I’m used to the chaotic and charismatic frat boy who can manipulate pretty much anyone he wants with some puppy-dog eyes or a well-placed smile.
Right now, his tone is as flat and emotionless as his expression. It’s as weird as it is creepy.
“I don’t go out of my way to make your life miserable or piss you off or whatever you’re thinking,” he continues. “I piss you off because it’s fun. That’s it, that’s all, and if that makes you miserable, then that’s a you problem.”
“I never said you make me miserable.”
