Trust(48)

What the hell?

“Never let other people get your drinks,” he said, lecturing me like a child. One who’d been particularly naughty.

“I was standing here the entire time,” I said.

“He had his back to you when he poured.” Blue eyes turned to ice. “Could have slipped anything in there.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Duncan, tone aggrieved.

John barely spared him a glance. “Edie, do you even know the guy? How could you be so stupid?”

“Stop it,” I said, dropping my voice and moving in closer. “You’re right, I should have gotten the drink myself. But you need to calm the hell down.”

“Forgive me if I find the idea of you getting drugged and raped a little disturbing.”

“John!”

“Cole, you asshole.” Duncan pumped the muscles in his arms, hands in tight fists. “You’re the dealer, not me. I didn’t do anything to her drink. I wouldn’t do that. Edie—”

“You don’t talk to her,” John growled. “Don’t even look at her.”

“Whoa,” I said.

People had started gathering around us, pressing in, getting excited. Testosterone filled the air like a stinking miasma. Jaw rigid and the veins in his neck standing out, John took a step forward. Obviously ready to fight.

I put my hand on his chest, holding him back by sheer force of will and one hell of a pissed-off expression. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

His furious gaze flicked between my face and Duncan’s.

Duncan said nothing. Interestingly enough, for all his earlier flexing, wariness now filled his eyes.

“John.” I slipped my free hand into his, forcing his fingers to open and accept mine. “Come on.”

Ever so slightly, his stance relaxed, the set of his broad shoulders easing. Good enough. I half led him, half dragged him through the crowd. Away from the people, lights, and music. Away until it was just me and him alone in the parking lot, standing beside his car.

It was over. Okay.

“Oh, boy,” I whispered, the pounding of my heart gradually slowing down. I dropped his hand and took a couple of steps, breathing hard. Wonder if this had been what he went through, breaking up the scene between me and Erika. The thought of him getting hurt, of him getting into trouble with the police or something, made me want to vomit.

“Holy shit, John,” I said. “What the fuck was that?”

“You were going to give it up to Duncan Dickerson?” he sneered. “Are you serious?”

I halted, staring at him. This was not good. “How do you know about that?”

“Anders overheard you and Hang talking.”

“Bastard.”

“Well?” he demanded, acting all authoritarian. Idiot.

“To be fair, I didn’t know his last name was Dickerson,” I said. “That’s unfortunate. Though, I wasn’t actually planning on marrying him, so . . .”

“Not funny.”

I shrugged.

“You barely know the guy.”

“Um, yeah. None of your concern. We’re not talking about this.” How mortifying! My face burned bright. People should just gather around and cook s’mores. “I appreciate that we’re friends. You mean a lot to me. But this is going to have to fall under definitely none of your damn business, so go away please.”

“We’re talking about it.” He advanced a step.

“No we are not.” And I retreated.

“You were going to let a complete stranger touch you.” Advance.

Retreat. “People do it all the time. You do it all the time.”

“But you don’t,” he said, taking the final step, backing me up against the side of his car and getting all in my face. “Edie, this is your first time we’re talking about. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, and it’s going to be messy and painful and probably horribly embarrassing and I just want it over and done with.” I tried to meet his eyes but failed, settling for a spot on his right shoulder. “You’re not a girl; you wouldn’t understand. Also, last time I checked, you’re not the gatekeeper of my hymen, John Cole. So back the fuck off.”

He said nothing.

Deep, calming breaths. “Look, someday I’ll meet someone I really like and we’ll have a deep and meaningful relationship and go at it like bunnies. But I don’t want to be the dumb virgin in that scenario.”

He slowly shook his head.

“Also, I do not want to die a virgin.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Hey, you and I both know death can occur at any time.”

“This is crazy.”

“I’m seeing a therapist!” I told his shoulder. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a little bit messed up these days. It’s hard for me to trust people. That’s not going to change anytime soon.”

He screwed up his face at me. “Wha—”

“I’m just trying to be practical.”

“Well, you’re being ridiculous. None of this makes sense.”

“It does to me.”

Again, he said nothing.

In fact, he said nothing for so long that I finally looked him in the eye. The anger had left him, replaced by an emotion I didn’t recognize. Worst of all, he still smelled like summer. A little sweat and the open night air, everything I loved. Liked. I meant liked.