Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(60)

He circled back around to stand in front of her, giving her a considering look. “Then let’s start with the dancing scene, shall we?”

Knowing it was mistake, she nodded once. Johan tossed his script back onto the table, looking like a toddler who’d just been handed a shiny new toy. He didn’t waste any time stepping into her personal space and settling a hand on her right hip. Her posture stayed rigid as he tugged her close. She squeezed her eyes shut against the unwanted sensation of his breath against her ear. They started to sway, but she couldn’t relax, couldn’t force her muscles to loosen.

Don’t do this. Wrong. So wrong. Get the hell out of here.

And do what, Roxy? Go back to singing telegrams? Stripping? Go home and admit failure to your parents? They would love it. They would grin and tell you life’s a bitch, then go back to drinking Budweiser on their shitty couch.

Grief slammed her. Self-pity that she’d never let herself feel before swarmed down on her, making up for lost time. What did any of this matter? Who cared about her pride besides herself? No one. No one gave it a thought. No one cared. Why should she?

Louis’s smiling face appeared in her head, and she couldn’t stop the tears from tracking down her cheeks.

Johan’s hand slipped further down her back.

LOUIS KNOCKED A little too loudly on Lena’s apartment door. He really wanted to put his fist through something, anything. Needed an outlet for this anxious frustration he’d been living with since this morning. Roxy had blocked his number. Unbelievable. He’d had no idea what he would have said if she’d answered, but he could at least have done better than I’ll call you. What the f*ck kind of idiot was he, anyway? I’ll call you? She was right to walk out without looking back. It made him nauseous thinking of how many times he’d said that to a girl and not meant it. How dare he say it to Roxy? Jesus, he deserved every minute of this suffering. As soon as he straightened out this headache with his sister, he was going to find her and beg until his face turned blue.

He’d replayed the scene this morning a dozen times, trying to see it from her perspective. Yeah, she definitely thought he’d been giving her the brush-off. He’d done nothing to convince her otherwise. As fragile as her trust in him was, he’d snapped it like a twig.

Goddammit, he missed her already. It baffled him that she could second-guess him when he felt like this about her. Wasn’t it visible? He didn’t think he was capable of hiding something this big, something that felt like it was continually pouring from his chest.

A lock turned in the door, and Lena suddenly stood in front of him. She held a spatula in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other. “What up, bro ham? I hope you brought your appetite. Or an extra fire extinguisher.”

He skirted past her into the apartment. “What did you set on fire?”

“Ketchup.”

Louis decided not to ask. “Listen, I came early so we could talk. Is anyone else here?”

“Nope.” She picked a glass of wine off the counter and took a healthy sip. Great, she was drinking. This was going to go well. “Just me. Celeste will be here in ten, though, so spit it out.”

“Thanks,” he returned dryly, going to the fridge for a much-needed beer. Possibly his last beer, ever, if this conversation took a turn for the worse. He downed half the bottle and set it down on the counter. “Remember the other night, when I told you there were no strippers at Fletcher’s bachelor party?”

Lena reached over and picked up a butcher knife from the kitchen counter. “Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie.” He thought of Roxy. Thought of the way she’d absorbed all the sunshine in his room. Where was she now? What was she doing? “The girl who showed up to take her clothes off wasn’t a stripper. She’s my girlfriend.” He watched the knife closely. “She needed the money because she was going through a rough patch, but the only person in that room she’s ever taken her clothes off for is me. And it’s going to stay that way.”

His sister watched him through narrowed eyes. “But Fletcher knew she was coming?”

“Yeah.” He sighed into his beer. “For what it’s worth, Lena, that kind of thing happens at a lot of bachelor parties. This was pretty tame compared to some of the ones I’ve been to.”

“He promised.” She buried the tip of the knife into a wooden cutting board, twisted it. “Is that the kind of girl you should be dating?”

His jaw flexed. “If you mean a beautiful, intelligent girl that makes me insanely happy every time I’m with her, then yes. That kind of girl. She’s stubborn and driven and brave. She’s everything. And she’s mine. So you need to get okay with that. With her. I don’t care what she did.”

Lena stuck out her bottom lip. “You don’t have to be nasty about it.”

Louis swallowed his knee-jerk apology. He wouldn’t apologize when he’d meant every word. “I’m just telling it like it is. If I have my way, she’ll be around more often. I want her to feel comfortable.”

“If she’s so important to you, where is she tonight?” Lena let the knife clatter onto the counter and crossed her arms. “I made enough paella to feed Manhattan.”

He hid his smile. That had been his sister’s way of saying, if she’s important to you, she’s important to us. “She’s at a rehearsal,” he hedged. “Not that I even invited her. Because I’m a moron.”