Hostile(18)

We finish our dinner in awkward silence as I sit there and evaluate my whole damn life. This is so not me. Quiet and awkward. What the fuck? I’m loud, outgoing, often cocky, and I get what I want.

What the hell is he doing to me?

“I do have cable.”

“What?” I come back from my haze just in time to hear Rhett and see him looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Which, to be fair, I think I have.

“Cable.” He nods toward the living area of his studio apartment to the nice comfortable-looking black suede couch. “I don’t have Netflix, but I have cable. We can try to find something to watch.”

“Oh.” I nod like an idiot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He puts the dishes in the sink, and I move to the couch, still moving slowly and trying to convince myself to play it cool. I’ve been to State in several different sports. I’ve won games in the final seconds—effortlessly, I might add. But this? Hanging out with the guy I’ve had an obsession with for at least three years at his place? Yeah. This is pressure.

He sits down next to me on the other side of the couch, and I desperately want to scoot toward the middle. Hell, if I’m being honest, I’d love to park my ass on his lap. But you know . . . boundaries and all that.

He clicks through channels, leaving it on something neither of us pay attention to when his eyes meet mine. “Fuck. This is so weird.” he says again.

“It’s not.” I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “Why can’t we hang out? I mean, it makes sense. We go to the same school. Same class.”

“Different lives,” he shoots back quickly.

“Not all that different.” I kick my shoes off, leaving them by the couch and turn to face him, tucking one foot under me. “Both eighteen, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice does this gravelly, low thing, making it hard for me to focus, but I need to get past this hurdle.

“Okay. See? Common ground.”

He points at me. “Plays every single sport known to man.” He points to his own chest. “Never played a sport in my life and don’t even like to watch them.”

I chew on my bottom lip as I think that over, but it’s not missed by me that his eyes carefully track the movement. Our eyes meet as I clear my throat and again try to focus. “I don’t play every single sport. I fucking hate golf.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Not a sport.”

“It’s a sport, but it’s stupid.”

He leans back against the couch, his body seeming to relax a little and then points at me again. “Born to the parents you currently live with.”

“Not all it’s cracked up to be,” I volley back because I may not be adopted, but I’m pretty sure I’m not here for the right reasons. It’s more out of obligation and tradition.

He seems to process that and then shrugs. I’m calling that a point for me.

“We both like to draw,” I say with a half-grin as he meets my eyes in annoyance.

“But you dropped it. Why?”

Okay, we’re talking. Having an actual conversation. I can’t chicken out and stop talking now. “My dad.” I catch the sympathy in his eyes and quickly add, “He didn’t think it was a good enough elective, so I gave it up. But it was my choice.”

“Sure it was.” His full lips quirk.

“It was. It’s not like I was going to pursue a career in art.”

“And that’s so bad?” He straightens and turns to face me now. There’s the hostility in his eyes I’ve grown used to.

“No. It’s just not the plan.”

“Whose plan?”

I’m suddenly uncomfortable and kicking myself for opening up this discussion. This is not what I want to talk about right now. I know my future is already planned. For now, I just want to see what this insane attraction is to Rhett. I want to do something totally on my own while I can.

“Are you dating Bree?” I blurt out, and his eyes widen.

“What?”

I stand my ground because it’s already out there, might as well follow through. “Bree. I saw her leaving, and I know you guys are close. I’m just wondering how close, that’s all.”

“There’s nothing going on with Bree. Stay away from her.” The sudden change in his demeanor is comical because it’s clear he thinks I have an interest in Bree. Not gonna happen.

I hold up my hands in front of me in surrender. “I’m not going near her. I was just curious.”

“Nothing is going on between us. She’s like my sister. But I will fuck up you or anyone who hurts her. Got it?”

Poor Josh.

“I do. I’m not interested in your sister.” I move closer to him, my heart thundering in my chest because I’m not interested in her or any woman, and I need to tell him. I need to tell someone. I need . . .

I lean in closer to him, my eyes on his lips, wanting so many things at once. Just as I’m about to reach my desired destination, his hand on my chest pushes me back and stops me from claiming his lips for my own.

“What are you doing?”

Fuck. I’m living every nightmare I’ve had for years. That’s what I’m doing.

“I . . .”

He shakes his head and looks horrified, so I sit back a little, trying to calm my racing heart. “You what?”