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“Back there. What the hell was that about?”
He doesn’t get it, does he?
I continue to ignore him, waiting for him to give up and walk away, but he’s as stubborn as I am.
“Lainey,” his voice softens enough that I pause my search and look up at him.
“What did I tell you that night at the restaurant?”
“You said a lot of things.”
“I said I don’t dothis.” I wag a finger between us. “I don’t do jealous and insecure. Sothat,” I say, motioning toward the hall, “whatever that was back there with her? I don’t do that.”
He sighs as his gaze hits the floor, hands flipping back his white coat to land on his hips. Figuring that’s my answer, I return to searching the gowns.
“That’s not what that was.”
I finally find the size I need and yank it out, turning away from him as fast as I can.
Ryan reaches out to capture my wrist, pulling me back toward him with enough force our chests crash together. He stares down at me, those eyes devilish and dark. “Isaid, that’s not what that was. I went to med school with herdadand he’s one of my good friends. He plays basketball with me and Jim. She’s not even eighteen, and I’m not into that shit. I know she flirts with me, but I always figured it was harmless. It wasn’t a big deal before, but now … it is. So, whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, stop it. I’m sorry it looked bad; I get it. But it meant nothing.”
I try to shake my wrist free, but he holds it. “Stop it,” he whispers.
I replay their conversation outside the room. Was he flirting? Did he say yes to her flirty attempt at an invitation? Or wassheflirting, and he was having a conversation with his friend’s daughter? As their conversation sinks in a little further, my ears instantly burn with familiar feelings of regret.
This is why I don’t get involved with someone, why I shouldn’t even attempt a relationship. I can’t get past the fear, the constant feeling of having to second guess someone’s hidden motives to protect myself.
My head dips down, forehead resting on his chest. I try to pull my body away from him, this time with embarrassment as opposed to anger, but he keeps a firm hand clasped around my wrist.
“Hey, look at me,” he says.
“No,” I mumble the words, knowing how childish it sounds.
“Look at me.”
I pause for a second, reeling in my feelings, before looking up at him. His eyes search my face, a hint of a smile tugging the corner of his lip. Before I can make another excuse about how I need to leave, he wraps his other hand around the nape of my neck and crashes our lips together. He finally lets go of mywrist and snakes that hand around my waist, tugging me up and crushing my body to his.
I drop the gown I had been so focused on a minute ago and wrap my arms around his neck, rising on my toes to meet his intensity. Hands roam each other feverishly as our tongues tangle, and I do my best to tell him with each kiss that I’m sorry I’m crazy.
He towers over me, leaning me back, and I lose my balance, crashing backward into a cart of blankets. The jolt is enough to break the kiss, and I start chuckling. He laughs too, his forehead falling to my shoulder. I hold him for a minute, relishing the feeling of being held in his strong embrace, feeling the crippling anxiety leave my body every time I’m in his arms.
He plants a kiss on the side of my neck, keeping his lips there as he continues. “I wasn’t flirting. There’s no reason toeverbe jealous, Lainey. If you let me, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.”
Before I can process what he’s saying, his lips leave my neck, and cool air wafts between us as he backs away before turning to leave the room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lainey
It isn’t until Saturday evening when his text comes through.
I’m in the midst of a self-care regimen that includes a hot bubble bath, followed by a much-needed full-body exfoliation and slathering lotion on every inch of my dry, neglected skin. My hair is in a messy top knot and my clay face mask is just starting to dry. I’m sitting on my vanity top, legs curled under me, face pressed to the mirror as I work to pluck some pesky eyebrow hairs when I hear my phone ping.
Jenna: Have either of you ever had your butthole bleached?
I laugh out loud to myself, blushing a little at how bold Jenna is with her questions.
Me: Nope, never even considered it.
