Page 77 of Wild and Bright

Her pursed smile looks almost bashful, and my chest twinges. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen her look this way. “I thought about you a lot, too. I kind of knew you were attracted to me, but I had no idea you wanted me that much.”

I lean in closer. “It would have terrified you if you knew how much I wanted you.”

All of her timidity fades. “I don’t think so. I would have liked it.”

My throat grows tight. “I wish I had just told you. I wish I wasn’t always such an asshole.”

She frowns. “Why were you an asshole when you wanted me so much?”

The answer once felt so complicated, but it’s strangely simple now. “Because you owned me, and I resented you for it. I don’t like it when…my life feels out of control.”

Her brow furrows. “It doesn’t feel out of control anymore, does it?”

“It feels more out of control than ever.” When she starts to look hesitant, I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “But I’m starting to think it’s worth it.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but instead, she smiles warmly and exits the car. My pulse finally starts to slow as I watch her walk into the hotel lobby. I meant those words. Her power over me is terrifying, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

I need her.

If she destroys me again, so be it.

TWENTY-THREE

Lauren

My phone rings.

Camden must have finished his meeting early. My stomach flips as I leap for the bedside table and grab my phone, but when I see the name, my buoyant mood deflates.

Hunter.

My brow furrows, a shapeless fear rising at the back of my mind. Hunter never calls me this late at night. I pick up the call, unable to keep the apprehension out of my voice as I ask, “What’s up?”

“Hey, love.”

My anxiety eases a bit at the lightness in his voice, but something is off. He sounds different than he did an hour ago when we left the concert venue.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course it is.”

My anxiety grows. The words were enunciated too slow and clearly, the consonants too precise…

He’s drunk and trying hard to sound like he isn’t. Now that I’ve had a moment to think, I recognize the ambient noise in the background—the muffled conversation and occasional shouts—and my stomach twists. “Are you at a bar?”

There’s a pause. “Where’s Camden? Is he right next to you?”

My brow furrows. “No, he had a meeting with Jeff. Why?”

He’s silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his words are thick and slushy, the earlier effort to sound sober now a distant memory. “Perfect. That’s just perfect. I want you to come out with me.”

“Oh, no.” I say the words mostly to myself.

“Oh, yes.” I hear a smile in his voice.

“Where are you? I’m picking you up.”

“No. You’re coming out. We’re dancing tonight.”

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