With a huff of disbelief, I hissed, “Yes! You completely ignored me at the bar the day after the wedding, and then today, when you finally decided I was at least decent enough to talk to, you treated me like I was trash.”
“How did I treat you like trash?” he demanded, finally looking a little perturbed. “By calling you an idiot, an asshole, a jerk, annoying? Oh wait, no.” He snapped his fingers. “Those are things you’ve called me. My bad.”
I opened my mouth as words failed me. But wow, I really had been awful to him, hadn’t I? And he was very, very upset with me.
This was not good.
I had to fix this.
“That’s just how I am,” I blurted. “I’m bitchy. You are not. You’re charming and flirty and…and you let insults bounce right off you. You just…” I spread my fingers before him. “You don’t act like this.”
Okay, so that was probably the worst argument I’d ever given anyone, but it was pretty much the truth, so…I went with it.
“Oh don’t I?” he asked softly. “Because you know me so well then?”
Unable to answer him because he was right, I didn’t really know him, I just stared, helpless, not even sure what to say.
He shook his head and glanced away before returning his gaze to me, his eyes swirling with turbulence. “Maybe I just don’t feel like being my usual self right now,” he said quietly. “Okay?”
My heart ached. Feeling like shit, I reached up and cupped his cheek gently in my palm. “I really broke you, didn’t I?”
His eyelashes flickered, dragging the lids over his eyes as if he had no control over it. When he leaned slightly into my hand, his scent floated over me. I wanted to press my lips to his. Then I wanted to hug him and feel his heat wrap around me, maybe let it soak into my bones and fix all this misery I was putting him through.
Watching his face, I said, “I’ll admit there’s something very...chemical between us.”
His eyes sprang open. He stared at me for a moment before pulling his face from my hand. Scowling, he said, “It’s called a chemical imbalance. And those cause mental illnesses, like schizophrenia, so...” He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul. “I’ll pass.”
Ouch.
Spinning away, he started down the hall away from me.
My stomach gripped with unease. “Colton...”
He only waved a hand over his shoulder. “I’ll work on the contention thing,” he growled. And that was that.
I didn’t feel better about facing my guilt head-on at all. And Colton still seemed to hate me.
Fuck.
JULIANNA’S CHAPTER | 9
By the time my day ended, I was frazzled and drained. I didn’t see Colton anymore, though I kept expecting to bump into him again throughout the rest of my classes.
When I slumped into my apartment, I collapsed on the couch and let my book bag thump to the floor beside me. After a second of gazing dazedly across the room, I decided I could move again after all and dug into my backpack to pull out my Kindle.
Nothing tore me away from distressing thoughts like a good book.
But every time the hero and heroine shared a heated glance, I kept thinking back to Colton, and the way he’d looked up at me when I put the condom on him or when I’d cupped his cheek after class today, or the first moment we’d met when he’d told me I looked like Rihanna.
This wasn’t working.
I swapped that book for a grisly murder mystery Chad had insisted I read.
It was bloody and gory and would probably give me nightmares if not for the fact I had about twenty different dream catchers hanging from various places around my room. But the story successfully nabbed my attention. I barely even noticed my two roommates returning to the apartment after they finished their classes.
I think Tyla might’ve even asked me how my day went. I hoped I told her it was fine, but I’m not certain.
I was hiding, couldn’t they tell?
With no idea how much time had passed, though I was certain I was about to find out who the killer was, a figure stomped up to the couch and stopped right in front of me.
I glanced up at Tyla as she set her hands on her hips.
“That’s it!” she told me in no uncertain terms. “I can’t handle watching you mope around the apartment a fucking second longer. We’re going out. Tonight.”
I blinked and brushed my bangs out of my face. Since I hadn’t been moping at all, but sitting here calmly reading a book, I guessed, “Theo’s hanging out with his basketball friends again, huh?”
She scowled, probably because I’d just hit the nail on the head. “That is totally beside the point. This is about you, JuJu. You need to stop pining over some unavailable, married man, who is probably cuddling with his wife this very—”
“I am not moping over him,” I muttered, grinding my teeth to keep from announcing I was moping over his brother.