You're to Blame(39)

“So, any news on Jacob?” Duke changes the subject. It’s like throwing water onto a flame, forcing down the heat before it grows to uncontrollable proportions.

“Doctors seem hopeful.” My generic answer doesn’t work on Duke. His eyes burn into me, letting me know it’s okay to say whatever I need to say. “Every day that passes is more painful. There’s a lot I still need to say to Jacob, and if he doesn’t wake up, I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Sometimes guilt feels heavier when you can’t talk about it.” Well, that’s about as honest as I’ve ever been with Duke.

“And why can’t you talk about it?”

“Do you want to get out of here?” I stand and gather my things, stuffing papers between the pages of my textbooks. This will all be a mess to organize later, but I need an out. My guilt about Jacob’s accident isn’t something I’m ready to talk to Duke about.

“Sure.” Duke slides on his jacket, and my mind blanks at the sight of the soft leather skimming over his arms and covering his tattoos. The act is every bit normal, but my heart races, and my palms sweat.

“You okay?” Duke’s deep voice breaks me free from the shackles of watching him.

“Yeah, sorry, just got lost there for a second.” If by lost, I mean completely thinking about what the leather would feel like on my skin, then sure.

The weight of my backpack on my shoulder almost feels as heavy as my guilt over the accident, but more so, my undeniable attraction to Duke. I walk outside and glance around. It was my idea to get together and then to get out of the library. Now, I feel like a fish out of water, unsure of how I need to breathe and my next move to get to safety.

Duke steps around me, and I follow him to the parking lot. He unlocks the door to his truck and swings it open for me.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as he slips behind the wheel. The overhead mirror is a perfect distraction. My messy bun is a perfect reflection of my life. “I get nervous around you.” I slam the mirror shut and shift forward to gain Duke’s attention. “I don’t know why I said that, but you do” —I tilt my head from side to side— “make me nervous.”

He flicks the radio off, and suddenly, the silence squeezes the life from my body. “Why do you think that is?”

My lungs fill and release, and my words tumble behind the breath. “Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself. You’re so sure, all the time. You give off a ‘fuck you’ kind of attitude.”

“Is it a bad thing?” Duke’s voice lowers. Curiosity burns in his stare.

“It’s an unexpected thing.” I offer him a smile of reassurance. “You’re a frat boy, Duke, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but nothing about you screams polos and yacht clubs.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit stereotypical?” He drums the ring on his thumb against the steering wheel to a tune only he can hear. “Not all frat boys are seconds away from popping their collars and cashing out their trust fund.”

“You know what I mean!” I exclaim.

“No, I really don’t. Do explain.” He glances at me, not worried about pulling out of the parking spot.

“It’s the hair.” I graze my fingers along the base of his neck. He doesn’t move to look at me, but his spine stiffens.

“What?” Duke’s skeptical tone says he’s unsure of where I’m going with this. I can’t necessarily blame him.

“Rachel claims your hair has an effect on some girls.” I wonder how silly I sound from his side of the truck.

“Some girls? Or you?” He chuckles. “And what kind of effect are we talking about?”

“You know...” I dodge the question, fiddling with the straps on my bag.

“No, Charlotte, I don’t know. Enlighten me.” He runs his thumb along his bottom lip once he has my full attention. He knows what he’s doing, right? He has to.

“Well, certain physical features make a girl squirm.” Heat rises to my cheeks. I lean forward to hide my embarrassment. Am I really saying this? I wish he’d stop, or else I’m going to start a fire by rubbing my legs together.

“Like what?” The humor in his voice cuts the cord holding onto my nerves. His cheeks clench tight. The grin stretches under his quick restraint.

“This isn’t funny, Duke!” I slap his arm. The rumble of my laughter fills the small space.

“Oh, sweetheart, this is entirely funny.” He looks at me. “You are so uncomfortable in your own skin. You can say it, you know?”

“And what is it you think you know so well, huh?” I roll my eyes, cross my arms over my chest, and inch away from Duke.

“You want to fuck me.” His unapologetic tone hits me straight between the legs.

“What?” I huff. “Huh? What are you talking about?” That’s it, play dumb. That always works.

“We’re both grown adults, Char. You can admit you’re attracted to me. Hell, it’s unbearable sometimes to stand beside you and not rip your clothes off. The smell of your perfume or body wash or whatever that delicious scent rolling off you is, makes me want to lick just about every inch of you.”