Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(29)

Ten minutes ago, Tahoe handed me the letter along with his lighter. He asked me if I wanted to read it first. I didn’t. I was ready to let go, and I didn’t care to know. I didn’t hesitate. I lit that sucker on fire, watched it burn for a few seconds, then dropped the burning letter and watched the ashes dissolve into the water.

We toasted with beers, me on my first, T-Rex on his third.

“I love that you drink beer straight from the bottle,” I say.

“Why?”

“You can blend with the posh, and you can fit in with average guys.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I just like it. You’re like a tamed beast.”

He’s momentarily speechless, then he scoffs and shakes his head incredulously. “You did not just call me a tamed beast, Regina.”

“I did.” I giggle.

I watch him put his lips on the beer bottle and take a slow swig.

I can barely stand the physicality of him, the reaction I have to him, and I’m aware that I want to have sex right now. Or maybe I just want to be close to someone. Maybe he’s the one who always makes me aware that I want to be close to someone.

He looks at me with his blue eyes. “I like that you drink beer…like a guy,” he teases as he nudges me.

“Wow, thanks! I feel so womanly.”

His smile never falters, but his voice lowers. “You are. You put on a fierce face, but I’ve never bought it.” He takes another sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Yeah? I totally buy yours.”

He laughs and then sobers up, crossing his arms. “No one is the way they seem. We all hide little pieces, either because we don’t want to be judged, or because we don’t think we’ll be understood, or simply because we don’t want those pieces of us to belong to anyone but us.” He lifts his beer and drinks, and I drink too.

As he lowers the bottle to his side, I look at his moist lips for an extra second.

Tahoe has never bought into the image I put out, and I don’t understand why—even before we became friends, he seemed to see right through me.

A part of me has also always understood that the person the world sees—the lazy, laughing, easy-going Tahoe—is a front for a far deeper, more complex man beneath.

We all hide little pieces of ourselves. He’s right. The teacher who told you that you’d never be good enough marked you in more ways than one. The birthday your parents forgot. Tiny little details that add up to your sense of inadequacy, of simply not being enough. So you stop wanting to please the teacher, stop expecting anything for your birthday; you stop putting out your good stuff because you don’t want the world to crap on it. Where does that stuff go? Is it there lingering, waiting to come out?

He smiles at me, and there is the tiger in me, wanting to pounce on…him.

I’ve tucked things about me so far deep I had forgotten they were even there. That I used to be a giver, and I loved to take care of Paul. That I really liked being home—in all the homes I’ve had. That I worry too much about my friends because I don’t want them to be hurt.

But see, that’s the thing. How far will I let these things, things people did to me and then went about their lives like normal, affect my life? Even today, Paul hurts me. His betrayal hurts me.

He hurts my belief in men, my ability to connect with one.

I’ve reserved the good things about me for those who live inside the wall with me, and the rest has been kept from the world—because I don’t want to be judged, or because I don’t think I’ll be understood, or I simply don’t want those pieces to be abused by someone else.

I’m such a coward, and that’s the truth.

Afraid to just be myself.

Afraid to trust, to love, to give myself another chance.

But I find myself reaching out to this guy, I find myself constantly drawn to this guy. “So what’s your secret, T-Rex?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” he says with a wink.

He glances at my mouth, then at a spot past my shoulder, as if he’s been drawn back into some bleak memory. “Besides, it’s in the past. No sense in wasting time with it when there’s nothing you can change. Is there?”

“Absolutely,” I agree.

His eyes trap mine again, and I want to say something snarky. But he looks raw, and I can’t.

“Thank you,” I finally say. “I was not very happy when I heard you were coming over, but when I saw you, I felt so relieved. Thank you.”

He looks at me with a half-smile and devil eyes. “For destroying his letter?”

“Yes. I feel…better.”

He’s thoughtful in the silence that settles between us. It’s so easy with you, I think. So easy and also so exciting with you.

“Any other letters from any club or non-club members we must destroy?” He narrows his eyes threateningly as he looks at me.

“No!” I laugh and shove both my hands in my pockets to warm them.

He laughs too, and when we stop laughing, our eyes meet, and I feel myself heat up so hard and so fast that I need to drop my gaze.

He remains studying me in silence. “So only Paul. Who was the founding member? Let’s talk about him for a second.”

“Roderick? Not Roderick! Or Vince…no, not him. They were both just…part of growing up.”