Page 23 of Dead Pretty

“Yep.” I stubbornly jut my chin out.

Another smile, this one actually on his lips. “Okay. So, why don’t we agree that neither of us is following the other? And I know that you don’t believe in fate or coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. So, we’ll settle on that. What do you say?”

I lift a shoulder. “I can … do that.”

“Good.” His voice is softer now, and his eyes linger on mine, longer than acceptable for two people who are barely even acquaintances.

I can feel things starting to heat and tighten inside of me. Things that have been dormant for a long, long time.

Things that have no business coming to life.

Still, I can’t seem to stop them or shut them down. And the longer I stand here with him, staring into his eyes, the harder it is to remember why I’m not supposed to feel anything.

“Go out with me? For dinner or even just a coffee. I still owe you one, remember?”

The words out of his mouth … the softly spoken words, said in that rough-sounding voice of his, are like being hit with hot and cold water at the same time.

They wake me up from whatever spell I was letting my hormones lure me under.

“No. I can’t.” I take a big step back from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Shit.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. I misread things.”

The expression on his face. He looks … uncomfortable, awkward.

He’s probably not used to being turned down. A guy with a face like his … I can’t imagine it ever happening.

No woman in her right mind would ever say no to a coffee date with Jack.

But I’m not a normal woman.

I hate that I can’t have those things that I once took for granted. I hate that my life is this way. But it is. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do to change it.

I wish I could tell him that he hadn’t misread anything. I do. I would love to go out for dinner with him. When I was the old Audrey, I would have taken him on that dinner and more. But now … I can’t.

I won’t.

“I should go.” I start to leave, but he says my name.

And that has me turning back.

“Friends?” He gives me a tentative smile.

I briefly close my eyes, wishing I could do at least that.

I stare past him. I can’t bring myself to look him in the face. This guy has an effect on me. I have never been so affected by a man before. And why I am now with him, I’m not sure.

That is something for me to figure out later—when I’m back at my apartment, alone.

“I don’t … have friends.”

His brows pull together. “You don’t have friends?” he echoes my words back to me.

I shake my head. “It’s just …” I push a hand through my hair, releasing a sigh. “I’m not someone you want to be around.”

And with that, I pivot on my heel and walk away from him.

He doesn’t call me back this time.