Page 82 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

“I came here to tell you all the various slang terminology for the act of self-pleasuring.” I hold up a hand and begin listing them off. “Wank, jerk off, jack off, touch your—”

“Penny!”

I let my hand drop. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

There’s venom in his voice, poison that confirms how much the mere sight of me bothers him.

It hurts.

I cross my arms and stand tall, squaring off with all five feet, ten inches of Noah.

“No, I don’t. I really don’t. Why do we have to hate each other? Why can’t we even be in the same room without wanting to tear each other apart?”

Noah’s eyes snap up at that.

Only then do I realize what I’ve said.

“I mean in a violent way, not in a sexy way… but we’ve been doing that, too!” I sigh and shake my head, frustrated with this confusing game of push and pull. “You were my best friend, Noah.”

“And my favorite television show used to be a cartoon cat and dog fused together at the waist. We all outgrow things.”

I shake my head. “You don’t outgrow love.”

Noah spans the space between us in two strides, wafting his spicy forest scent over me. He smells so much better than Tank.

Tank.

The thought reminds me why I’m here, that there might be more important things at stake than whether or not Noah likes me.

But he grabs my arm before I can speak. “Get. Out.”

I pull my arm away. “No, I won’t. Not until you give me a good reason.”

“Because I don’t want you here.”

“That’s not what you said in the bathroom today.”

His eyes narrow. “That was different.”

“Why? How is seeing me there and doing…that—how is that different than here and now? Is it because we’re in your house again? We’re in a place where we have memories and history? Is this making it all too real for you, Noah?”

“Stop,” he says, his hands shaking at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh no. You got to psychoanalyze me the other day. Well now, it’s my turn.” I step forward and stab a finger into his chest. “You run from your feelings, Noah. You’re so afraid of being hurt again—by me or anyone else—that you shut it all off. You act like you don’t care about anyone or anything, but someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t be as angry as you are right now. Someone cold and unfeeling can’t play guitar like you were playing earlier.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes dismissively, and I stab my finger into his pec again, hard enough he winces.

“That’s another thing. Your music. Do you remember how many times I asked you to play something for me? You always claimed you needed to practice the piece more, but the truth is you were terrified. Afraid I’d think you were bad or laugh. Afraid your dream wouldn’t pan out. Why take a risk and expose yourself when you could just hold it all in your head and imagine, right?”

“I think we both know I’ve exposed myself to you.”

I shake my head. “What we’ve been doing is another façade. It’s just another way you convince yourself you’re being vulnerable, when really, you’re only revealing the things you feel confident in. You know you’re gorgeous, so you seduced me, but you won’t let me into your head. I think because you’re afraid of what we both might find there.”

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