Until You
Page 58

“Help me?” Her eyes lit up like I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “I don’t need help.”
“I wasn’t asking if you did,” I shot back.
“No, you’re just assuming,” she retorted, not meeting my eyes as she continued to unload her supplies.
“Not at all. I know what you can do.” My voice cracked with amusement, but I wanted her to look at me.
“I thought that if we’re going to be friends,” I continued, “this might be a good place to start.”
Getting off my chair, I walked towards her, hoping she would know I wanted anything but friendship.
“I mean…” I kept going when she didn’t say anything. “It’s not like we’re going to be able to go back to climbing trees and having sleepovers, is it?”
Her chest filled with a quiet breath, and she stopped unloading for a split second. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought she’d let me plant her ass on the counter and let me show her how a sleepover between us would work.
But then she narrowed her eyes and talked more with her teeth than her lips. “Like I said, I don’t need help.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t asking,” I repeated, not missing a beat. “Did you think that Porter was going to let you conduct experiments with fire by yourself?” I had no idea what her experiment was, but after catching sight of some of her materials and Porter’s apprehension about leaving her alone, I gathered that it would involve the burners.
“How do you know about my experiment? And who said we’re going to be friends?” she sneered before bending down to get something out of her bag. “You know, maybe too much damage has been done. I know you’ve apologized, but it’s not so easy for me.”
This was not the Tate I knew. Tate was tough. Even when I’d made her cry over the years with my pranks, she held her head high and moved on.
Tate didn’t need grand gestures. Did she?
“You’re not getting girly on me, are you?” I was trying at sarcasm, but I wanted a f**king miracle.
Yes, Jared. Thank you for apologizing, and I forgive you. Let’s move on.
That’s what I really wanted.
But she buried her face in her binder and ignored me. Or tried to look like she was ignoring me.
My fingers were humming, and I balled up my fists to try to erase the urge to touch her.
She kept staring at her papers, but I knew she wasn’t reading anything. She was feeling me like I was feeling her.
Finally, she sighed, giving up the petense, and looked up at me like my mother did when she’d had enough. “Jared, I appreciate the effort you’re putting in here, but it’s unnecessary. Contrary to what your ego is blowing you up with, I’ve been surviving just fine without you for the last three years. I work better alone, and I would not appreciate your help today or any other day. We’re not friends.”
My pulse throbbed in my throat, and I swallowed.
Fine without me?
And I hadn’t breathed a single day without her on my mind.
She leveled me with her resigned expression and flat eyes. I wondered if she’d believed what she’d said.
I wondered if it was true.
She turned back around to her work table, not giving away anything until she knocked her binder to the floor, and its contents spilled everywhere.
I stepped behind her, and we bent down together to pick up the papers.
Was she nervous?
Tate wasn’t usually clumsy.
Gathering up the papers, I pinched my eyebrows together and studied the internet printouts of cars for sale that were among the papers. “You’re looking at cars?” I asked.
The selection included a Mustang, a Charger, a 300M and a G8.
“Yeah,” she snipped. “I’m getting myself a birthday present.”
Birthday. I nearly said it out loud.
I guess now I knew what to tell her dad she wanted.
She’d want the car soon. Her birthday was coming up in less than a week. I wondered if he’d trust me to tag along with her to go buy one instead of making her wait.
Would she trust me?
“Jared?” She held out her hand for the papers.
I blinked, coming out of my thoughts. “I forgot your birthday was coming up,” I lied. “Does your dad know you’re looking to buy a car so soon?” I asked as I came up beside her at the table.
“Does your mom know you provide alcohol to minors and sleep around on the weekends?” she retorted, serving my shit back to me.
“‘Does my mom care’ would be a better question.” I couldn’t hide the disdain in my tone as I started helping her unload her crate.
Even before I’d met Tate, my relationship with my mother was broken. I roamed, left to stick up for myself or my mom on the few occasions one of her ass**le drinking buddies got rough. Not that I could throw much weight around at that age, but I tried.
In her monologue, Tate reminded me of how she healed me when she thought I’d healed her. We were both fighting for happiness. Fighting to just be kids when we met.
Those four years we spent together were the best I’d ever felt.
I snapped my head to the side when I heard glass shatter to the floor.
What the…?
Tate had whipped around, probably having tried to catch the flask, and leaned on the counter looking down at her mess.
What the hell was going on with her?
She stared at the damage, almost looking like she was in pain as her chest rose and fell in hard, deep breaths.