I slumped back against the door, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks fall on my shoulders. I’d forgotten that she was leaving today. I’d been pretty much drunk non-stop since the Beckman party two days ago.
Shit.
I could hear car doors slamming outside, and I told myself to stay where I was. I didn’t need to see her.
Let her go study abroad in France. Her leaving was the best damn thing that could happen.
“Jared!” I tensed up when my mother called from downstairs. “The dog got out. You better go get him.”
Great.
Wanna bet she let the damn dog out to begin with? And wanna bet she let him out the front door? I pinched my eyebrows so close together that it actually hurt.
Throwing on last night’s jeans, I jerked open the bedroom door, not caring if Purdue girl woke up, and stomped down the stairs.
My mother was waiting by the open front door, holding up the leash for me and smiling like she was so clever. Snatching it out of her hand, I walked outside and over to Tate’s yard.
Madman used to be her dog, too, and he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else.
“Did you come to say goodbye to me?” Tate knelt on her front lawn near her dad’s Bronco, and I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of her delighted and uncontrollable giggle. She was smiling like it was Christmas morning, and her eyes were squeezed shut as Madman nuzzled her neck.
Her ivory skin glowed in the morning sun, and her full, pink lips were open, showing a beautiful row of white teeth.
The dog was clearly happy, too, wagging his tail with giddiness, and I felt like I was intruding.
They were a pair, loving on each other, and my stomach filled with butterflies.
Dammit. I ground my teeth together.
How did she do that? How did she always manage to make me feel happy to see her happy?
I blinked long and hard.
Tate continued yapping to the dog. “Oh, well, I love you, too!” She sounded like she was speaking to a child, all sweet and shit, as Madman kept nudging and licking her face.
He shouldn’t love her this much. What had she done for him in the past two years?
“Madman, come,” I barked, not really angry with the dog.
Tate’s eyes shifted up to me, and she stood up. “You’re being a jerk to the dog now, too?” She scowled, and it was then that I noticed what she was wearing.
The Nine Inch Nails T-shirt I’d given her when we were fourteen, and my chest swelled for some stupid unknown reason.
I’d forgotten she had it.
Okay…not really. I guess I didn’t realize that she still had it.
She probably didn’t even remember that I’d given it to her.
Kneeling down to hook Madman’s leash onto his collar, I twisted my lips up slightly. “You’re talking again, Tatum.”
I didn’t call her Tate. She hated “Tatum”, so that’s what I called her.
I fixed a bored, superior expression on my face.
I’d be happier without her around, I told myself. She was nothing.
And yet, I heard the little voice in the back of my head. She was everything.
She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes clear as she turned to walk away.
She wasn’t fighting back, I guess. Not today. The party on Friday night—when I’d humiliated her, and she’d punched my friend, Madoc, in the face—must have been a one-time deal.
“Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?” I asked, sneering.
I should’ve just walked away, but hell, I couldn’t stop engaging her. It was an addiction.
She turned back to me, her fingers fisting up. “Why do you ask?”
“Just looks a little sloppy is all.” But that was a bold-faced lie.
The black T-shirt was worn out, but it clung to her fit body like it was made just for her, and her dark jeans hugged her ass, telling me exactly what she would look like naked. With long, shiny hair and flawless skin, she looked like fire and sugar, and I wanted to gorge and burn at the same time.
Tatum was hot, but she didn’t know it.
And blonde or not, that was my type.
“But no worries,” I continued. “I get it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Get what?”
Leaning in, I taunted her with a smug grin. “You always liked wearing my clothes.”
Her eyes widened, and with her flushed skin there was no mistaking that she was pissed. It was raging all over her tough little face.
And I smiled to myself, because I fucking loved it.
She didn’t run away, though.
“Hold on.” She held up her pointer finger and turned to walk to the truck.
Digging under the front seat, in the emergency pack her dad kept there, she fished out something and slammed the car door shut. By the time she’d huffed back over to me, I saw that she had a lighter in her hand.
Before I could even register what was happening, she’d peeled off her shirt and exposed her perfect chest in a sexy ass sports bra.
My heart damn near shifted with the fucking pounding in my chest.
Holy shit.
I watched, not breathing, as she held up the shirt, flicked the lighter, and dipped the hem into the flame, bringing it to ash piece by piece.
Son of a bitch! What the hell was happening with her all of a sudden?
My gaze flashed to hers, and time stood still as we watched each other, forgetting the flaming material between us. Her hair danced around her body, and her storm-filled eyes pierced my skin, my brain, and my ability to move or speak.
Her arms shook a little, and her breaths, although steady, were deep. She was nervous as hell.
Okay, so breaking Madoc’s nose the other night wasn’t a fluke. She was fighting back.