Page 34 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Asshole.

I still can’t believe he said it, let alone to the guy I’ve been hanging out with lately.

Like, who does that?

Controlling, bossy, motherfu––

A soft knock echoes from the front door, interrupting my useless analysis of today’s earlier event. Which, I guess, is a good thing. I’ve already spent enough brainpower on the matter. No need to beat a dead horse.

I unfold myself from the couch, tossing the remote back onto the cushion. Running my fingers through my still-damp hair, I rise onto my tiptoes and peek through the peephole to see who’s here.

I’d recognize the old, worn baseball hat just about anywhere. It’s turned backward as an uninvited Theo looks down at his phone, giving me a perfect, shameless view of his strong forearms. The weather’s been warm enough so he hasn’t needed to wear a jacket, and boy is he taking full advantage. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that hugs his biceps along with a pair of dark jeans. The combination makes him look effortlessly sexy. So much so, I can only imagine how many girls eye-screwed the bastard when he went about his daily routine before coming here.

It’s annoying. How attractive he is. And he knows it too. The guy could have any girl he wants. Hell, he has had any girl he wants. And each and every one of those girls knew exactly what they were signing up for. One and done. That’s it. Why, you might ask? Because Theo’s an adamant believer in “spreading the love.” And the fact I want a piece of that particular pie? Even after all the shit he’s put me through? After I full-blown heard him talking to Burrows at practice? After he said he would never touch me? It’s absolutely ridiculous.

Aaaand I’m doing it again. Incessantly over-analyzing every single exchange I’ve ever had with the guy.

Get a grip, girl.

Maybe I should go for another run. Not that the first one helped get a certain someone off my mind. But still.

Theo lifts his hand and raps his fist against the door again. I jump back in surprise and clear my throat. I should go back to my show and ignore him. I should pretend I’m not home and hide away in my room so he can’t hear the television flip on. I should do a lot of things. What I shouldn’t do is actually consider opening this stupid door, which is exactly what I’m doing right now.

Come on, Blake!

I fist the hem of my sleep shorts into my sweaty palms.

Don’t do it. Don’t open the door.

“I know you’re in there!” Theo calls out. “Already saw Colt and Ash––”

I wrench the door open and fold my arms, leaning against the doorjamb with a scowl.

“Oh. Hey,” he offers, taken aback.

“You mean you saw them at SeaBird? You know, the place I was thrown out of because of you?”

The bastard has the decency to look sheepish. “Look, I’m sorry––”

“Bullshit. You didn’t want me there.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want you––”

“Don’t lie, Teddy.” I dig my fingernails into my arms, letting the crescent shapes mar my flesh as another wave of frustration and embarrassment settles into my bones. “It was a jerk thing to do, and you know it.”

His sigh is soft but still hits me square in the chest as he holds my gaze, tearing apart my defenses with a single look.

“You’re right,” he confesses. “It was a dick move, and I shouldn’t have tattled on you. Half the people in the bar were as young as you. I shouldn’t have thrown you under the bus.”

I blink slowly, surprised by how easily he caved. He’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Admitting he’s wrong is rare as hell. But I’m not ready to give in and forgive him. Not yet.

Lifting my chin, I demand, “Then tell me why. Why’d you do it to me?”

He hesitates, scratching the scruff along his jaw. A grocery sack hangs from his arm, but I don’t ask what’s inside. I’m too anxious to hear his explanation about why he was such an ass in the first place.

“It’s complicated,” he starts.

And we’re back to square one.

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