Page 21 of Beauty and the Cop
"Yeah, well, we both know Elsie is too nice to tell you to go fuck yourself with a rusty pole, so I'm doing it on her behalf," he retorts, a smirk in his voice.
Why did I ever think telling him about her was a good idea? He hasn't stopped giving me shit since he brought my key over when I locked myself out a few weeks ago.
"You're starting to piss me off," I growl. "Worry about your girl and fuck off about mine."
"You jealous asshole," he says, a sharp bark of laughter rolling down the line. "I'm only worrying about your girl because you're going to fuck it up if someone doesn't worry about it for you."
"I'm not going to fuck it up."
"Oh, yeah? So you didn't tell her that she was a bad example for her students this morning?"
I grit my teeth, more pissed at myself than him.
"That's what I thought," he says, smug. "You wouldn't be chewing your own goddamn foot off to escape the friendzone you put yourself into if you'd just man up and ask her out already. But no, you gotta do shit the hard way and torture yourself with thisjust friendsbullshit first. That's why you're a pussy, by the way."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Because you know I'm right."
I grunt, disconnecting on him instead of acknowledging his point. He isn't wrong, though. I was a dick to Elsie this morningbecause I'm losing my mind, and it's my own fault. She thinks we're friends because that's what I let her think. Because I don't want to push too hard and push her right back out of my life when it's so much better with her in it.
I'd rather have any piece of her than none at all. But…I don't get to take it out on her like I did this morning. That's just a dick move, and she deserves better, especially from me.
I scroll to her number, hesitating.
She deserves more than an apology over text, but if I show up at her school, she might actually kill me.
Me: I'm sorry I was an asshole this morning. You didn't deserve it, and you're a fucking amazing teacher. Your students are lucky to have you. Can we do dinner tonight, Dimples? I'd like to make up for what I said.
I see the message flip from 'delivered' to 'read' and wait for a response. Twenty minutes later, I realize that I'm not getting one. Not today.
"Fuck," I groan, pulling the pillow over my eyes. There's no way I'm sleeping now, though.
Chapter Eight
Elsie
Some days, being humanis the hardest thing you can be. Today is one of those days. By the time I get home, it's late, and I'm emotionally and mentally drained.
I risk a glance at Noah's house as I stumble up the steps to the front door, but his lights are off. He's probably asleep. Or he's avoiding me. Either way, I don't think I'll be seeing him tonight.
Right now, I'm not even sure I want to see him.
He hurt my feelings this morning.
We've spent so much time together since I moved in. Unless he's working a case, we're pretty much together from the time I get home until the time I crash at night. We eat together. We laugh together. We talk about everything. I really thought we were friends.
I thought he knew me, respected me, hell, liked me.
Does he really think I'm setting a bad example for my students? Sure, I've been late a few times, but it's not like I intentionally set out to show up late. Our principal has been more understanding than my infuriating and infuriatingly hot neighbor.
His bad attitude was not what I wanted to deal with today of all days. It's my dad's birthday. If I were back in Porter, I'd be spending it with my mom. We'd go to the cemetery and place flowers on his grave. She'd tell me stories about him. We'd laugh and cry and just be together.
I can't do that here.
Instead, I spent the day pretending everything was fine. I spent the evening in a parent-teacher conference over a student who was watching porn in class and decided to flip a desk instead of taking responsibility.
And that was after my hot jerk-of-a-neighbor made me cry this morning.
