This Girl (Slammed #3)(35)
She marches toward me again, but this last comment of hers really gets to me. My backup plan? I block her way into the bathroom and look down at her, attempting to calm her down before she says something she’ll regret.
“Lake, you know how I felt about you back then. I never even thought about that girl again. I knew exactly who I wanted to be with. It was just a matter of when.”
She drops her arms to her side. “Well, that’s nice that you had that reassurance, because I sure as hell didn’t. I lived every single day feeling like I was going through hell while you were across the street, choosing everything and everyone over me. Not to mention all the while going on dates and kissing other girls while I sat home, watching my own mother die right before my eyes.”
I step forward and grab her face with both hands. “That’s. Not. Fair,” I say through clenched teeth. She darts her eyes away from mine, aware of the low blow she delivered. She pulls away from my grasp and walks around me, back into the bathroom. She pushes open the shower curtain and adjusts the water again, letting her pride and stubbornness win.
“That’s it? You’re leaving it at that?” I say loudly. She doesn’t look up at me. I can sense when I need to step away from a situation, and this is one of those times. If I don’t walk away, I’ll say something I’ll regret, too. I punch the door and storm out of the bathroom, then swing open the door to the hallway. I slam the hotel room door and pace back and forth, cursing under my breath. Each time I pass our hotel room, I pause and turn toward it, expecting her to open the door and apologize.
She never does.
She just got in the shower? How in the hell can she say something like that to me and just get in the damn shower without apologizing? God, she’s so infuriating! I haven’t been this mad at her since that night I thought she was kissing Javi.
I rest my back against our door and slide down to the floor, then take fistfuls of my hair into my hands. She can’t seriously be mad about this. We weren’t even dating! I try to justify her reasons for reacting the way she is, but I can’t. She’s acting like an immature high schooler.
“Will?” she says, her voice muffled by the door. She sounds close and I realize she’s on the other side of the door at my level. The fact that she knew I was sitting on the floor in front of the door pisses me off even more. She knows me too well.
“What?” I say sharply.
It’s silent for a moment, then she sighs. “I’m sorry I said that,” she says softly.
I lean my head against the door and close my eyes, taking in a long, deep breath.
“It’s just . . . I know we don’t believe in soulmates,” she says. “There are so many people in this world that can be right for each other. If there weren’t, then cheating would never be an issue. Everyone would find their one true love and life would be great—relationships would be a piece of cake. But that’s not how it is in reality, and I realize this. So . . . it just hurts, okay? It hurts me to know that there are other women out there in the world that could make you happy. I know it’s immature and I was being petty and jealous, but . . . I just want to be your only one. I want to be your soulmate, even if I don’t believe in them. I overreacted and I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m really sorry, Will.”
There’s silence on both ends, then I hear the bathroom door shut. I close my eyes and contemplate everything she said. I know exactly how she feels; I’ve been prone to my own bouts of jealousy in the past when it comes to her. Back when I was her teacher and hearing her agree to that date with Nick, then later seeing Javi kiss her; I lost my mind both times. Hell, I beat the shit out of Javi, and Lake wasn’t even my girlfriend at the time. Expecting her not to have a reaction when she finds out I kissed someone else in the midst of all our emotional turmoil makes me nothing but a hypocrite. She had a normal reaction just now, and I’m treating her like this is her fault. She’s probably in the shower right now, crying. All because of me.
I’m such an ass**le.
I jump up and slide the key card in, then open the door. I swing open the bathroom door and she’s sitting on the edge of the shower, still in her pants and bra, crying into her hands. She looks up at me with the saddest eyes and guilt consumes me. I grab her hand and pull her up. She sucks in a breath like she’s scared I’m about to yell at her again, which only makes me feel worse. I slide my hands through her hair and grip the nape of her neck, then look her in the eyes. She can see in my expression that I’m not here to fight.
I’m here to make up.
“Wife,” I say, staring straight into her eyes. “Think what you want, but there isn’t a single woman in this whole damn universe that I could ever love like I love you.”
Our mouths collide so forcefully; she almost falls backward into the shower. I brace my hand against the shower wall with one arm, then pick her up around the waist with the other arm, lifting her over the lip of the tub. I shove her up against the wall, the water from the showerhead falling between us. We’re both breathing heavily and I pull her as close against me as she can possibly get while her fingers tug and pull at my hair. My chest heaves with each breath I inhale as we frantically grab and pull and stroke every inch of each other within arm’s reach.
I pull her bra up and over her head, then throw it behind me. My hand slides down to the small of her back, my fingers tracing a trail just inside the back of her jeans. She moans and arches her back, pressing herself harder against me. My fingers slowly slide around to the front of her jeans and I lower her zipper. Her pants are soaked, so it takes effort getting them off her, but I eventually do.