Dirty English
Page 39

When I turned around Blake was standing there.
“Oh! You scared me!” I laughed, clutching my chest. “What are you doing back here?” I looked past his shoulder. I didn’t think Rick would mind that he was in a restricted area, but you could never tell.
He scrubbed a hand through his auburn hair roughly, making the ends stand up. “I can’t believe you have a date with him after what I told you.”
“Blake—”
“Since when does he get to march in here and act like he owns you?” He paced around, his movements swift and sharp, as if he were holding in banked anger.
I stiffened. “ You’re the one acting possessive. He’s a good guy. In fact, you outright lied about him at the party. Care to explain that?”
His eyes widened. “I was desperate. I don’t want you with him, okay? It’s just—I told you how I feel, and you haven’t said a word about it. You just keep going about your day, not wanting to accept that our relationship is changing. I can’t just be your friend anymore and see you screw around with other guys.”
I shook my head. “You’re my friend. I need you.” I only had two in the whole world.
He exhaled. “Just give us a chance. We’ll take it slow, I promise. No crazy stuff.” His hand reached out to touch my cheek, soft and easy as if I were a skittish animal he wanted to tame. “I won’t ever pressure you or push you to do anything you don’t want to do, I promise.”
And the thing was, there was a tiny bit of something in my heart for him. A spark of whatever we’d had in prep school still lingering. But being with Blake meant commitment.
I—I just couldn’t do it.
“Everything okay back here?” Rick’s voice cut through the tension. “You need some help, Elizabeth?”
I cleared my throat and stepped back around Blake. “No, it’s good. Coming out to mop soon.”
Blake reached out to clasp my hand. “Wait, Elizabeth. I’m not the only one with feelings here. Talk to me.”
I sighed, changing gears. Anything to get away from this topic. “Look, I have a lot on my mind right now. There’s something I haven’t told you. Colby—he came to see me the night before the semester started. He—he’s enrolled here now. I haven’t seen him since, but I’m going to. I just know it. He’s not going away.” I heard the fear in my voice and cringed.
He gathered me in his arms. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be done. It’s something I’m going to have to deal with, and I really need you here beside me. I can’t do it without you.”
He let out a long breath and kissed my forehead. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
LATER WE LEFT the bookstore and headed out to the parking lot, where Declan took the top and sides off his Jeep. We’d decided to leave my car there and have him bring me back later from wherever we were going.
I got in on the passenger side and buckled up. “Want to tell me what that was all about in there? We never made plans.”
He smirked. “What? You’ve wanted me to ask you out since the moment you saw me at the frat house.”
“You mean when you wouldn’t even dance with me?” I snapped.
He tossed his head back and laughed. “You’re a little spitfire. And I did dance with you on your balcony, remember?”
Fine.
He put on his Ray-Bans and grinned. “Don’t like surprises, I take it?”
“No. Just tell me,” I groaned.
He nodded. “Okay. We’re headed to an intervention.”
That didn’t sound fun at all. “For what?”
His gray eyes caressed my face when we stopped at a light. “I promise, you’ll like it.”
Oh shit. Lightning strikes went straight to my core.
We hit the open road and the wind made my hair crazy. It was exhilarating, but I yelled as I tried to wrestle my hair and hold it back. I needed a ponytail holder.
He reached over and opened the glove box and pointed at a pile of hair bands.
It scared me that he read my mind, but I shot him a sour look as I selected a black one. “Nadia’s?”
He shrugged in that effortless way of his I’d come to recognize. Noncommittal. Mysterious as hell.
I glared at him.
But my anger only made him grin. “Jealous?” he asked.
“Yes,” came out before I could stop it.
He shot me a surprised look and then turned quickly back to the road, but he kept sending me little glances as he drove, his eyes roaming my face.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. Simple words. Heavy weight. “There’s no reason for you to be jealous of her. You’re everything she isn’t, and I like it. A lot.”
When I watch romantic movies or read a book, there comes a point in the story where the two love interests are perfectly synced. He looks at her and his eyes soften. She looks at him and realizes he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Kinda like when Elizabeth looks past Darcy’s awful marriage proposal and sees the real man underneath the rich veneer. Or when Romeo first sees Juliet at the party and knows life will never be the same.
It happened for me just as the wind caught his dark hair and ruffled it, and in that tiny millisecond, the carefree way he smiled, the way he held the steering wheel with strong hands, the way he sent me a little searching glance as if gauging my reaction—it was enough to make me second guess everything.