Page 77 of Imogen

“No!” she replies, then goes back to the box of Lego she’s wrapping.

And doing an awful fucking job.

I step over to where she is, removing the scissors from her hand before she decides to stab me with them.

“Fuck’s sake. Talk to me.”

She throws the tape on the table and pushes me back. “Will you just fucking stop! You said it didn’t mean anything to you. I respected that. But then today you say… Fuck, you’re messing with my head, Ben. Nothing has changed from then until now. So just fucking stop!”

I step closer, caging her in against the wall. “I want to stay away,” I grit out. “I need to. But I can’t.”

“You need to move,” she breathes out, and her eyelids flutter closed when I run my hand along her jaw.

“I can’t seem to leave you alone,” I rasp, my words pained.

She tilts her head up, her doe eyes meeting mine. “This isn’t fair,” she whispers.

I lean down, running my nose along her jaw until my lips are at her ear. “Nothing about this is fair,” I admit, then my tone turns into a plea. “Please, don’t go on a date with him.”

She pushes me back, and since I wasn’t expecting it, I fall back against the table. “I’m going.”

“Wait,” I call out as she grabs her bag.

“No, I’m not doing this with you. I’m not some fucking toy. I’m a person. And unless you can commit to whatever this is, I’m done, Ben. You might be able to fuck and detach yourself, but I can’t. I’m not that person. So if you want to get laid, go find someone else,” she seethes, before leaving the room.

I drop down on the chair, scrubbing my hands down my face. I want her. I’ve wanted her for a long time. And she’s right. She doesn’t deserve this. This isn’t how I want to treat her or make her feel.

I have to get my head together before it’s too late.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Imogen

Hope rests her arm against the back of the sofa as I enter the living room in the only outfit I have left for a date.

I have no idea where he is taking me and dressing up in a dress to go to a standard pub restaurant might seem overkill, so I decided on a mid-thigh, black leather skirt and a black, skin-tight, long-sleeved V-neck top with my cream blazer. My boots reach two inches below my skirt, and the heel on them is a good five inches. I love them. They make me look like I’ve got long legs even though I’m only five-foot-three.

“You look smoking hot,” Hope praises. “He must be too for you to get those heels out.”

“He’s good looking,” I admit, rounding the sofa to take a seat next to her. “Do you think it’s too soon to be going on a date?”

I haven’t told her about Ben. I haven’t told anyone. Because revealing that secret will bring up the fact he doesn’t want me past that. And I’m too embarrassed to admit that out loud. This is about me just coming out of a relationship, one that ended badly.

“I don’t think it’s too soon. I think you and Zach were only friends deep down. Yeah, you were in a relationship but you weren’t a couple. Not really. And I think it’s because you were so good as friends,” she reveals. “Plus, a normal person waits to date to respect their ex, but he doesn’t get that from you. Not after what he’s done.”

I want to tell her about Ben, about what happened on Monday. Hayden would be brutally honest and probably drive round there. Hope, however, will help me sort through what I’m feeling. And I desperately want to open up to her.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I reply, as my mind sorts through what I should do.

Tell her.

I open my mouth but her phone beeps with a message. “Shit. I need to get home. Ciara was meant to make Ash dinner because Mum and Dad have gone out for food, but she’s not back home for another hour. Madison said he’s blown the fuses.”

“How has he done that?” I ask as I get to my feet and follow her.

“Making a cheese toastie. He’s got the cable caught in it and it’s melted through to the wire.”

“Shit! Go, go. I’ll let you know how tonight goes.”

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