Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,39

what you can actually call flirting.” I hold up my hands in defense of my actions. “She’s sweet but—”

“Not your type?” She arches a brow.

“No.” I lower my voice, unable to help myself. Having her sitting so close, the candlelight from the table casting her beautiful face in a golden glow, and with a few beers in me, I’m feeling honest. Too honest. “You know what my type is.”

Her cheeks turn pink and her jaw works, like she’s trying to say something but she can’t find the words. I lean back, creating distance, and she presses her lips together, contemplating me. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she finally murmurs, her voice so low I have to lean forward again to hear her.

“Why not?” I pause, drinking her in. Her lips are so red. I’m tempted to kiss her. Hard. See if I can smudge the lipstick. “Because you don’t like it?”

“Because I might like it too much,” she confesses, glancing around quickly as if to make sure no one is paying attention to us.

And guess what? No one is. They don’t care what we’re doing or what we’re saying. I’m tempted to grab her hand, tell everyone we have to go, and drag her back to our apartment so I can get her naked and beneath me in record time.

Our apartment. Has a nice ring to it, am I right?

Whoa, whoa there, dumbass. Don’t move too fast. It’s all fun and games while you two play house and shit, but it will all go down the toilet when you end it. And you know you’re gonna end it.

The little voice inside my head is correct. I’ll end it, and Stella will hate me even more than she does now.

Or does she?

“I thought you hated me for what happened between us.” Let’s see what she says.

“I don’t hate you, Carter. I just…” Her voice drifts and she laughs. It’s this sad sound that makes my chest go tight and makes my arms ache to pull her in close, but she’d probably shove me away. “I don’t know how to feel about you.”

I remain quiet. I get the sense that she wants to confess more.

“I made Eleanor flirt with you,” she admits, and my jaw drops open in surprise. Damn it, I should’ve known. It was such bad flirting. Eleanor came on way too strong in the weirdest way.

“Why? Wanting to catch me do something bad, like hit on your friend?” That’s kind of fucked up.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.” She shrugs, though I say nothing. I just watch her. I’m kind of shocked she would go to these lengths. “I was jealous, okay? Seeing you pay attention to someone else.”

Well. That changes everything. “You were jealous?” I like this. I like this a lot.

“Don’t get too cocky,” she warns, pointing at me. She knows me better than I think. “It’s just weird, having this—between us, you know?”

“Can I say something?” When she nods, I continue. “I’m sorry for what I did—that night. How I walked out on you. I never called, I never texted, and that was an asshole move on my part.”

Her expression softens and I realize I should’ve apologized a long time ago. “It was an asshole move on your part.” The tiniest smile curves her perfect red lips. “And I accept your apology. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat? What more do I need to do?”

“Groveling always works.”

I’ll remember that. I can grovel.

“Also—I was talking to Eleanor because I wanted to see if she’d tell you. I wasn’t sure what exactly your friends know about us,” I say, keeping my voice soft.

“Oh really?” She arches a brow, that tiny smile growing.

“Your friends know? About us? That night?”

The smile fades and she exhales loudly. “Yes.”

“But my sister doesn’t?”

Stella shakes her head. “She can’t know.”

“I feel the same way.” Slowly I reach for her and take her hand, drawing my thumb across her skin, beneath the lace sleeve of her shirt, and I feel the tiniest shiver. Just like that, she reacts to me.

Why are we not fucking again?

“Let’s get out of here,” I tell her.

She laughs. “Don’t use that bedroom voice on me, Carter.”

“I have a bedroom voice?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Most definitely.”

“Then let’s get out of here and I’ll use it some more. In your bedroom.” I release my hold on her, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one’s approaching. I want to make a quick getaway. “Come on, I want to see your