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Because that’s what I am to him. A problem he doesn’t know how to solve.
Throughout the day, I find myself creating the perfect woman for him in my head, because it’s better than allowing myself to worry about things that can never happen, anyway. She’d be gentle and sweet. Probably a schoolteacher or a nurse. She’d be someone who helps people and she’d probably have a cat or a cute little dog. She’d wear sundresses and vanilla-scented perfume and she’d give him her all because she wouldn’t have anything to hide.
I name her Sabrina, in my head, because I once knew a Sabrina that was as sweet as sugar on the outside, but a vindictive snake underneath.
Seems fitting.
Guess you can say I’m bitter.
By the end of the day, Mason’s still not shown up and I’ve given up hope.
It’s around four when a bright blue cupcake is sat down on the counter in front of me.
“Puke’s mom made them for his birthday,” Ian smiles proudly.
“Is it his birthday?”
“No, tomorrow is. A bunch of us are going out for drinks since he’s turning twenty-one.” He leans back against the counter beside me. “You should come out with us.”
“Sorry, I can’t. Responsibilities and all that.”
The thought of going out makes my skin crawl. Especially after everything that’s happened recently. Even though . . . I can’t help but wonder if Mason will be joining them.
Ian chuckles, shaking his head. “Right. I just thought you’d like to have some fun . . .”
“Yeah.”
An air of awkwardness hangs between us now. After I moved intemporarilywith Mason, I feel like both he and Puke have been keeping their distance. Not that I blame them, but it just adds to the air ofHannah’s a whorethat’s been hanging around in my head all day.
“Ian, about—”
“You deserve a night out, though . . . every now and then,” he says, cutting me off without regard. I pause, a strange, unease settling over me. It’s nothing. I know I’m just emotional, but . . . it’s still there. “Even if it’s not with a bunch of greasy mechanics.”
Okay . . .
“I get out.” It’s totally a lie. My first— and last— time I’d been out in months had been when Mason took me to the Inner Sanctum and we all know how that went.
Ian stares at me for a beat, boredom clouding his chocolate gaze as if he doesn’t believe me. He’s entirely too close forcomfort, but with the edge of the desk behind me and the counter in front of me, I have nowhere to go.
Plus . . . this isIan. Myfriend. He’s been nothing but kind to me since I started and better yet, he was theonlyperson that spoke to me here for days. At least with any kind of humanity.
And so I’m reminded of Mason again and everything that happened between us yesterday. Maybe thePlan Bisn’t what’s making me sick. Maybe it’s just his absence.
“You and I both know that’s a lie,” Ian goads. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”
Well, every time Idosomething for myself, I also do something stupid. Like forgetting condoms or locking the back door.
“I do,” I stammer, skin burning from being put on the spot like there’s a military-grade spotlight shining down on me. “I read. I . . . I go visit friends.”Usedto visit friends. “I do a lot of things. Plus, Ilikebeing independent.”
Ian inches closer, his gaze burning into mine. My heartbeat quickens, pounding in my ears, but it’s not for anything good. It’s a sick, uneasy feeling in my stomach and though I know I’m overreacting, I still don’t like the insinuation in this conversation.
“You need to take time for yourself.” He reaches up, surprising me when he pushes a strand of hair back from the hickey on my neck with a brush of his fingers. Fingers that don’t feel like the ones ingrained on my skin. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, so quiet, I’m almost sure I missed it.
I arch away from him and open my mouth to snap at him to stop touching me, but before I can . . .
A throat clears in the doorway. Ian leaps away from me like he’s been poked with a cattle prod and nervously runs a hand over his short hair.
Oh. Shit.
