“Axelle.”
I whirl around, expecting to have to defend myself from another one of her verbal onslaughts, but instead she wraps me in a hug.
“I understand. And seriously, you can do better.” She pulls back, and I have to look away from the concern I sense in her stare.
“Have fun tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with that, I’m gone.
A few minutes later I pull up to Clifford’s, and the driveway and street outside his place are already packed with cars. Looks like the party started early.
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and wish I’d never agreed to go out tonight. To think that I could be home watching a movie with Killian, not needing to explain my shitty mood because he already knows everything about me. He’d tread carefully, keep the mood light, and steer the subjects away from anything parent-related. He’d go out of his way to make me laugh, and always before he’d leave, he’d hug me for so long, not letting go until he whispered, “Their loss,” as if to remind me that the men in my life have given up the honor of knowing me.
My fingers itch to call him, to beg him to drop everything and spend tonight with me, but the problem is I know he will.
I know, and always have, that if I need him he’d drop everything to be there. And as selfish as I am, as badly as I want nothing more than that right now, there’s no way I could do that to him.
Not after the smile I saw on his face when he was with Brynn. If anyone on this earth deserves happiness, deserves to live a life of love and success, it’s Killian McCreery.
I drag myself from my car, and already it’s as if this godforsaken holiday has sapped me of my energy. As my feet carry me to the door, I prepare for what’ll lie within.
Clifford and twenty of his closest friends are huddled around the television, smoking weed, with the music blaring. And when I push through the front door without knocking that’s exactly what I see.
Fuck.
“Babe!” Clifford hops up from the couch, throwing his controller to the guy next to him with orders to “Play for me until I get back.”
He crosses to me and I take in what he’s wearing: his favorite pair of skinny jeans, a Jane’s Addiction T-shirt, and combat boots. Nice to see he dressed up. Fucking asshole.
He moves to hug me, but stops just shy of touching me.
“What is it, babe?” I snarl and he jerks back. “Is there something in my teeth?”
His eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”
He did not just ask me that.
“Am I okay?” My fists clench at my sides. “Did you just ask me if I’m okay?”
He nods, but says, “No.”
“Good, that’s good Clifford, because if you’d asked me if I was okay, it would imply that you don’t know why the fuck I’m not okay, and I hope to hell you are not that stupid.”
“Oh snap! She got you, Clifford!” one of his friends pipes up from the living room.
“Come on. I think we need to talk.” He grabs my arm, but I wrench it from his grip. He throws his hands up and nods down the hallway. “I just want to talk to you, babe, but not in front of an audience.”
I flick my hair, which took me an hour to flat iron, and stomp down the hallway to storm into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind us and I whirl on him. “If you don’t mind, can we skip the lies and excuses and move straight to the ass-kissing? That’s my favorite part anyway.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you?”
I grin. I can’t help it. He really is a fuckin’ idiot. “You asked me out on a date tonight.” I say the words slow and clearly so he can understand. Maybe I should draw him a picture story, dumb shit.
He blinks and has the audacity to look confused. “Right. And I told you we we’re having a party.”
“After our date!”
He props his hands on his hips and sighs while studying his feet. “This is why I don’t do the girlfriend thing.”
“Excuse me? The girlfriend thing? Is that what you think this is?”
He meets me with an unwavering glare. “For me? Yeah.”
A laugh shoots from my lips. “Really? Because we’ve never even been on a date, Clifford. This isn’t even a real relationship; all we do is hook up!”
“If that’s true, then why are you all up on my nuts about a date?”
If that isn’t the million-dollar question. I sink my fingers into my hair and grip tight. “I don’t know.”
“Hey.” He steps closer to me, but still maintains some distance in case I might rip his dick off if he gets too close. Probably a smart bet. “I want to take you out to dinner, okay? I’d planned on asking you if you’d like that or if you want to order takeout, but you didn’t really give me a chance.”
He’s right. I didn’t. For all I know he could have a limo waiting out back ready to steal us off to some fantastic restaurant and Vegas show.