Page 62 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 34

Scarlett and Max guide me through the downstairs, finding a quiet room toward the back of the house. It’s a huge TV room, complete with a screen that covers one entire wall. It’s literally a movie theater. In a house. Micah has an actual movie theater in his home. Overwhelmed, I let Scarlett guide me over to the huge L-shaped couch. She grabs a few folded blankets and plops them on the cushions before we sit our wet, towel-wrapped selves down. Max plants himself across from us on a gigantic coffee table that extends the entire length of the couch.

“I think I need a drink.”

Max rubs his hands through his hair before getting back up and exiting the room. I cover my face with my hands. Sensing I’m not ready to talk, Scarlett simply sits beside me, one hand resting on my back.

Before long, Max returns. “Here.”

I remove my hands from my face, accepting the drink from him. “Thank you.” I take a deep swallow.

Scarlett gently pats my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I swivel my head toward her. “About what? About how embarrassing that was? About how she’s been attacking me for no real reason? Or maybe about how the worst part is every word she said is true?” My eyes squeeze shut as I try to hold the tears at bay.

“She’s jealous, Daphne.” Max’s voice comes out strong and clear.

A disbelieving chuckle works its way up from my chest. “Of what?” I glance down at my skinny, boobless body, holding my arms out. “What is she jealous of? Tell me.” Pain rips at my insides as my mind flashes back to the boys who had taunted me and touched my scrawny eleven-year-old body. My hands tremble.

Max gives me a hard look. “Come on, Daphne. You’re not really falling right into her trap, are you? She’s somehow figured out what will hurt you most and is jabbing at you with a hot poker.”

Scarlett frowns when I look at her. “Are you really going to let her get to you like that?”

I tip my cup to my lips, downing the rest before setting it on the table next to Max, who scoots forward so he can grasp my hand. “I will say it again. She’s fucking jealous. You have so much to offer that she doesn’t.”

I sniff. “Like what?”

“Seriously?” Max shakes his head. “You’re gorgeous with those green eyes of yours. And obviously Micah has no complaints about your body. Combine that with your smart brain and beautiful heart, and you have him panting after you. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And Micah sees you as a whole person—likes you as a whole person—instead of the tits and ass he gets with Alora. She has nothing else to offer except a bitchy, bad attitude.”

Scarlett shifts on the couch, pulling her knees up and clasping her arms around them. “I swear to you, Daphne. Xander told me Micah has been so different lately. His thing has always been that he doesn’t want a relationship—he’s gone as far as to say he wanted to make it through high school without ever being involved with anyone. But, Daph, as much as he claims to not want one, it sure looks like he’s heading that way with you. You’re the one making him break all of his rules.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be in the line of fire anymore.” My eyes well up with tears. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Daphne.” Micah’s voice cuts through the tension in the room, and all three of us turn our heads toward him.

Stubbornness setting in, I turn back around, my eyes slamming shut. “I don’t want to talk right now, Micah.” Embarrassment flows through me, thick like molasses, coating every part of me, sticky and unbearable.

I can hear the heaviness in his expelled breath. “Come on, Daph.”

I won’t give in. Can’t. “Please just leave me alone, Micah.” With a quick glance up at Max, I murmur, “I want to go home. Will you take me home?”

We all stand, and Max tugs me close to his side. The three of us skirt around the couch together. When I dare look, Micah’s expression shows a mixture of concern, disappointment, and anger. I’m not really sure how much of each is aimed at me, but I’m not staying to find out.

Unfortunately, he’s blocking the exit, his hands on his hips, the broad expanse of his chest still wet from the pool. I’m mesmerized by the tiny droplets of water as they travel down over the planes and ridges of his muscles. I have an errant thought that I’d like to lick the droplets from him, but shove it aside. “Let me leave, Micah.”

His jaw set, he grits out, “I want to talk to you first.”

A tear slides down my cheek, and I furiously wipe it away. “Look, I don’t want any part of this crap. I don’t want to be the center of attention, and I sure as hell don’t want to be dragged through the mud and kicked around—all for what? Because I’m here with you? I don’t deserve that. Until you can figure out how to make Alora quit treating me like her personal punching bag, I don’t see how this can work.”

He blows out an unsteady breath, gripping the back of his neck. His eyes bore into mine. The plea is there within them. It’s agonizing. Heart-wrenching.

“Micah, I can’t. I need some space.” Finally relenting, he steps aside to let us pass. We hurry down the hallway, away from Micah. Away from this mess, this devastation.

That tiny sliver in my heart that had been opening to Micah stitches itself right back up. If I don’t allow him in, he can’t hurt me.

The next morning, I wake up with dried tears on my face. At first I’m confused, but then flashes of memories from last night’s party flicker through my head like a movie reel—Micah going down on me, Alora bullying me and destroying my self-confidence, me leaving, heart in tatters. I told Micah I can’t be with him. I must have been crying in my sleep over it.

An unsteady breath feathers through my lips as I hear my phone vibrate where it’s sitting on the charger. I don’t want to look. Shouldn’t look.

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