I’m a modern-day concubine in their eyes, and I can’t even find it within me to care anymore. Those people were never going to be my friends anyway. I’m just doing my best to survive another year in this town before I get the fuck out.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t at leasttryto make it enjoyable.
“Do you ever have fun?” I ask, flinging my arms out to the side. “Do you know how to relax and have a good time, or are you always so doom and gloom?”
His face pinches into a frown. “I’m not doom and gloom.”
“Tell that to your face.”
His mouth goes slack before he can compose his features into a neutral mask. “Sorry if I’m not giddy about spending my evenings with a girl who fucked me over once already.”
“That’s it, though,” I say, wagging a finger at him, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “You said yourself that this is preferable to all the effort it would take to destroy my life. So, in a way, you kind of do enjoy this. Better than the alternative, anyway.”
“Revisionist history,” he says flatly.
“It’s more than that,” I continue, unable to stop now that I’ve started. “You play football and like to knock people’s teeth out, but that can’t be all you like to do. That can’t be the only way you spend your time. I mean, what do you do for fun?”
“You know enough about my personal life already, don’t you think?”
The question almost makes me want to laugh. I want to ask if he is serious, but the dark expression on his face tells me he is, and suddenly, the urge to laugh slips away.
If Caleb thinks I know too much about his personal life, then how many peoplereallyknow him?
He doesn’t want his friends to know about his underground fighting, but I have no idea why. Would the answer to that mystery explain why he can smile with the Golden Boys but is nothing but a growling beast with me?
How much of his life is he hiding away from people, and how much of it have I been able to see?
“Why don’t you want your friends to know about your fighting?”
It’s not the question I intended to ask, but now that I’ve spoken it, I need to know.
A shiver of nervous energy tingles down my spine. I straighten my back to fight it off. “What could be so bad that you’d agree to spend all of your free time with me?”
“An hour a day is hardly all of my free time. Besides, the real question here is, what could be so scary that you’d be willing to risk spending so much time alone with me?”
Caleb pushes himself off the wall and lowers his chin. The room is illuminated by one floor lamp in the corner of the room, and the light cuts sharply across his features, casting his eyes in shadow.
“You’ve seen firsthand how dangerous I can be.”
“You’re not dangerous.”
He tilts his head to the side, the shadows playing across his face, highlighting the sharp planes. “You sure about that?”
Goose bumps rise on the backs of my arms. I nod, but the movement feels wooden.
AmI sure about that?
I’ve crossed him, and I’ve seen exactly what he does to people who cross him. It never ends well.
Still, if he wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t he have done it by now?
My thoughts are so scattered that I don’t realize I’ve spoken out loud until Caleb responds. “Fists aren’t the only way to wage war.”
I’m about to ask what he means, but before my lips can form the words, Caleb’s mouth crashes over mine. I’m so stunned I don’t react at first. Then, I slam my fists against his chest and stumble back.
“What the hell—”
“You asked what I like to do for fun,” he says, as though that is explanation enough.