Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(51)

He opens his mouth, and I cut him off. “Thanks for the invite, but I decided I’m not going.”

His amber eyes are really fucking hard to look at. They basically scream a million things. Disappointment. Confusion. I avoid them, preferring his ruthless glares to what he’s showering me with right now. Seriously, I stare anywhere but at him.

The street.

The light pole.

The revolving doors I just left.

I can’t hang out with them like we’re friends.

I can’t hang out with him. My girlfriend is his little sister. For fuck’s sake, I vandalized his house three years ago. Did he suddenly have amnesia? He should be pushing me down on the curb. He should be kicking me and calling me a thousand different names. Not inviting me to his birthday party.

Jesus. It doesn’t make sense.

I steal one glance back at him, and he’s looking over my shoulder like he’s trying to find someone. And then he tells me, “Because you have so many friends lined up inviting you places.” In mock surprise, he puts his hand to his lips. “Oh my God, there’s your bestie waving you down. He’s so excited to see you.”

Fuck him.

I glare.

He glares back, and then I think, this is stupid. He’s just trying to piss me off to get me to go. He’s a button-pusher, and the more I’m around him, the more he’s learning mine.

I roll my eyes. “I have work, you fucking…” I let out an aggravated noise and scuff the sidewalk with my Converse. What the fuck am I doing?

“If the CEO of the company can take time off for my birthday, then so can his employee.” Loren tries to open the car door again, but I lean my bodyweight against it.

His cheekbones sharpen.

“I’m serious.” I take a deep breath. “I have to finish what I’m working on and…” I stare off. What else? God, I’m pathetic. I can’t even come up with a decent excuse.

“Just let me out for a second. I won’t force you in the limo.” The edge is still in his voice, but there’s no humor attached. He’s serious.

I step back and pull the sleeves of my hoodie down over the tops of my hands, the wind picking up. Chillier tonight. Loren opens the door and climbs out of the car. No Halloween costume on, which kind of surprises me. Just a black crewneck T-shirt and dark jeans.

He’s taller than me by a few inches, and I pull my hood back just to brush longer strands of my hair out of my face.

“I want you to come,” Lo emphasizes.

I shake my head. Why? Because I’m Willow’s boyfriend? Because he thinks I’m some loser without anyone to hang with on Halloween?

He stares right into me. “Jesus Christ, do I need to drop to my knees and beg?”

I blow out hot breath through my nose, and a bright flash in the distance catches my attention. We both turn our heads.

Paparazzi parallel parked down the street. Loren and the Calloway sisters attract them like moths to a flame, and they burn fucking bright. At least, I can get away from it. I can’t even imagine having to always deal with the constant cameras.

We only have a minute before we’re bombarded, and I don’t want to be in Celebrity Crush tomorrow.

So I quickly say, “It’s different.” Loren swings his head to me, confusion lining his eyes. I continue on. “This is a boyfriend-girlfriend, couple thing. I’m the seventh wheel now that Willow is gone, and I see that it’s a pity invite, man, so just leave me alone.”

He cocks his head. “Pity? Do you know who I am?” He touches his chest. “I have waded in self-pity too much to ever spare pity for other people. And you can ask Connor and Ryke in there.” He points to the limo. “I don’t aimlessly throw out invites like I’m a flower girl at a wedding. I have very few friends, and you’re one of them.”

What? No.

We’re not friends. It may have been years since I spray-painted Cock Sucker on his mailbox, but it doesn’t change the fact that I did those things. I don’t deserve his friendship. I definitely don’t deserve him trying so fucking hard to get me to go to his party.

I deserve none of it.

Me, being alone on Halloween is karma. It’s penance for all my shitty deeds. That’s where I deserve to be. Friendless and alone.

But he’s here spending energy on me, and there’s a part of me that wants to just get in the limo. That wants to give myself happiness and fun for maybe just one moment.

Loren tries to convince me again. “Willow would hate what we’re about to do. You, on the other hand, will like what I have planned for my birthday. So I’m glad it’s you and not her here.” He flashes his iconic half-smile.

Okay.

Okay. Okay.

I breathe and then nod a few times.

A cameraman jogs closer, and Loren casts a scathing, threatening glare at him to stay back.

The guy cowers a few feet away, but he still shouts, “Where’s Maximoff?!”

I glare now. Loren’s kid is only three, and paparazzi harass him more in one week than I’ve been in my entire life. And anyway, I’m pretty sure that Maximoff and the rest of the Calloway sisters’ kids are staying back with a babysitter. But like hell I’m telling this guy anything.

Loren ignores the cameraman like he’s evaporated into thin air and his eyes ping to me.