Page 82 of Prince of Hawthorne Prep

“Can’t blame her for that. I’ve certainly been doing my best.”

I shoot him a sour look.

A smile trembles around the corners of his lips as his palm drops onto my upper thigh. Even though his grip isn’t tight, it feels like my bare skin is being singed alive. It wouldn’t surprise me to find a permanent tattoo of his handprint I’ll sport for the rest of my life. My anger isn’t enough to douse the ember of desire that flares to life in my core with that one innocuous touch.

It’s ridiculous.

If there were a way to stomp it out, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I don’t want to feel this way about Austin. Not when this isn’t anything more than a game.

“Maybe I should introduce myself so she can see that I’m not as bad as she thinks.”

My pulse trips and it takes a moment to find my voice. “Why would you even bother? You don’t actually give a shit what happens to me.”

His gaze stays pinned to the ribbon of country road as we speed toward school. When his jaw locks, the muscle in his cheek tics a mad rhythm. My heartbeat pounds as I wait for him to deny the accusation.

Oh god, why would I want that?

Am I a total glutton for punishment?

Even though alternative rock plays from the stereo and filters through the cabin, the silence that blankets us is deafening.

His fingers tighten, biting into the soft flesh, marking me in a way that can never be undone.

“Is that what you want, Delilah?” he asks softly. “For me to care?”

The question circles viciously in my brain.

I don’t know, and that’s part of the problem. Without everything that sits between us, the answer would be much clearer.

When I remain silent, he growls, “Don’t forget that this is a game you started.”

How are we back to this again?

“It’s not,” I explode. This argument is a constant circle, and I don’t know why I bother. He will never believe me. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“He just oh-so-conveniently found out after I shared that with you in private, huh?” He glares, skewering me straight through the heart with that one angry look. “What else did you tell him?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I never said a word about our conversation. Why would I?”

“How should I know? Maybe you get off on humiliating people the same way he does.”

My mouth dries. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” There’s a pause. “How would I know that?”

My tongue darts out to moisten dry lips. “Because we weren’t together. I broke up with him the day after you picked me up along the side of the road.”

His lips lift into a snarl. “Stop lying. You were together the week after that.”

My shoulders slump under the heavy weight of his accusation.

Jasper was so careful to plan it all out.

More like diabolical.

Only in hindsight do I understand that. He asked me to keep our breakup a secret so it would look like I was a willing participant in his plans. And now there’s nothing I can do or say to prove my innocence.

All I have is my word, and that’s nowhere near good enough.

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