Because as much as I’d like to think I’d pushed her off the relationship cliff, she was pretty damn good at clawing her way back to the top just so she could be the one to shove me off it.
“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” she sang, and then glanced at her phone. “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but I have a professor who hates me and a final project I haven’t even started.” She stood and gave me a pitiful glance. “Which is too bad, since I’d love to teach you how to ride sometime.”
I felt that look all the way down to my toes.
But mainly I felt that look where I sure as hell shouldn’t have.
Between my legs.
It took every ounce of strength I had to level her with a glare and say, “I guess turnabout’s fair play, since I taught you to ride first.”
Lucas spit out his drink while Avery groaned into her hands.
Austin tilted her head. “Did you, though?”
“Okay!” Avery waved her hands between us. “So, this social media class and hateful professor? What’s that all about?”
Austin seemed to deflate as she grabbed her keys out of her purse and snarled in Avery’s direction. “My professor’s just looking for a way to fail me—apparently, he hates any girl student who doesn’t have giant boobs. He passes the girls with the big boobs and the guys who salivate over his ability to get his own students into bed. Disgusting, really.”
I frowned at Austin’s chest. She had a great rack, a gorgeous rack, I would know, I’d seen it. What the hell kind of professor wouldn’t pass her?
“I’m late enough to gain his unwanted attention and probably the only student who doesn’t fall all over herself for him. Anyways”—she grabbed her leather jacket and shrugged into it, pulling her pretty, dark brown hair with golden highlights over the soft black material—“for my final project, I have to start either a blog or a YouTube channel and gain a following of more than a hundred people to pass the class, which may sound easy, but I’ve been procrastinating, and it’s due in three weeks.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “I still don’t have any ideas.”
I snorted. “Shocking, since when it comes to payback, you’re the Queen Bitch.” Okay, yeah, I was more than buzzed. It slipped out. All of it. The nasty words and the hurtful way my voice echoed them, like she was really getting to me.
Maybe because she was.
“That’s it!” Avery shouted, slamming her hand down on the table and scaring the shit out of Lucas enough for him to choke on a peanut and almost need the Heimlich.
“What?” Austin frowned. “What’s it?”
“Thatch!” Avery shouted gleefully.
And I was waving down the waitress for a third time.
I was going to kick Lucas’s ass if I ended up in AA.
“What about Thatch?” Lucas looked as confused as I felt.
“Austin.” I hated the way Avery’s eyes lit up like she’d just found a way to solve world hunger—and I was the answer. “Start a blog about hating your ex!”
My mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, start a what blog?”
Avery was rubbing her hands together as Austin’s smile grew wider and wider.
“So, document how to hate an ex?” Austin asked. “I think I’ve got that down.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
Hate was a strong word, too strong. Did she really hate me? And wasn’t that the plan all along? Use her hate, use her anger?
“Yes!” Avery held up her hand for a high five. “You can do weekly blog posts on how to break up with your cheating boyfriend, share your story.” Avery glanced over at me. “Sorry, Thatch.” And then she looked back at Austin. “It’s perfect!”
“But what would I call it?”
“Cheated.” This from Lucas.
“Thanks, man.” I saluted him with my middle finger. “Oh also, you’re dead to me.”
“Ah, you said that a few hours ago, and look, still friends.”
He lifted his beer in acknowledgment of our ended friendship and smirked.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Austin narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s not like I’m going to air all your dirty, skanky laundry. This will totally be from the scorned person’s point of view! I can add in articles from different women’s magazines and BuzzFeed, and post quizzes!”
“Yes!” Avery giggled. “Quizzes like ‘Is Your Man Faithful?’ ‘Does He Have a Small Wiener?’”
All eyes fell to me.
“I’m a plastic surgeon,” I said evenly. “If it started small, it sure as hell isn’t that way now.” I grinned tightly at Austin. “Right, sweetheart?”
She blinked slowly and then narrowed her gaze at my crotch. “You know? I can’t really remember.”
I smirked and leaned in close. “The hell you can’t.”
“Okay.” Lucas stood and put a hand on my chest. “Maybe I should cut you off.”
“Thanks for the idea, Avery!” Austin waved at us. “I’ll think about it.” She hugged Lucas and then gave me a chilly glare before turning on her heel and walking away.
Lucas whistled. “You couldn’t just listen to your best friend when he first told you to leave her the hell alone. No, you had to go and show her your bedroom and then your cock. I warned you, man.”
I didn’t respond as my eyes followed Austin’s body until the door to the bar slammed behind her.
I had nothing in my defense.
Because men like me, men like my father, we didn’t understand commitment—something he reminded me of on a daily basis.
The minute he moved back to Seattle.
And into the same building as me.
Chapter Seven
AUSTIN
It was going to be a late night.
Like really late.
Not only did I have an assignment to finish, but there was no chance in hell I could actually sleep after that run-in with Thatch. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel? And why was I like a dog with a bone? I wanted to let it go.
I wanted to let him go.
I wanted to be free from whatever emotional bondage he still used on me.
But every time I saw his face, I was torn between wanting to knock out his perfect teeth and wanting to kiss him with reckless abandon.
Maybe it was because no one had ever broken up with me before? Probably because I’d never had a serious relationship—until Thatch had given me a key.
A freaking key to his apartment!
“He doesn’t want you, Austin,” I mumbled to myself. I mean he made that clear the minute I walked in on him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.
Taking a deep breath, I tossed my keys onto the kitchen table and pulled out a wineglass, filling it to the rim before opening my laptop and waiting for it to power up.
My mom wasn’t home. Then again, she was rarely home at night—she was always out with her girlfriends doing wine dates and dinner parties. It was her thing—actually it was more my dad’s thing, since all of the women she hung out with were capable voters.
And my dad was going to be out late—he had made that much clear earlier.
I shivered. The only light illuminating our massive house was from the computer and the TV in the family room.