Last Chance Summer - Shannon Klare Page 0,74
were strewn across her buffalo-plaid comforter, and she wasn’t even halfway done with her eyebrows. If anyone was going to run us late, it was cabin two’s makeup guru and her never-ending quest for the perfect brow.
I crossed the cabin, shooting her judgy eyes as I stepped outside. My breath caught in my throat, the sight of Grant leaned against the rail making me pause.
He glanced my way for a fraction of a second, a pained look crossing his face. I betrayed him by keeping my secrets my own. He knew it. So did I.
I brushed a hand through my hair and passed him, silent as I headed for the steps. He wore a pair of athletic shorts and a loose-fitting Texas Tech shirt. The brim of his hat shadowed his eyes, but I could feel him staring. Those hazel eyes drilled into me as I hit the ground, the notes of his body wash lingering across the porch, making it harder and harder to distance myself.
“Hey,” he said, the line in his lips sharp and his voice so deep it was almost inaudible. “You planning on talking to me anytime in the next day, or should I chalk this up to a loss and move on?”
“You don’t want me to talk to you,” I said, still walking. “Just leave me alone.”
“So then that’s it?” he said. “You get to explain to me how you’ve done this terrible thing and I don’t get to say anything in response?”
“Looks like it.”
“Then you’re a coward.”
I turned, my blood heating at the insinuation. “You don’t know what I am!” I said. “And you don’t get to call me anything when you have no idea how hard it was for me to cut this thing off.”
“Then why did you?” he said, crossing the porch. “Because you’re afraid of what I think, or because you’re afraid of what I have to say? You don’t get to run away and hide just because you think you know what’s best for everyone. That isn’t fair.”
“I’m not talking about this right now.”
“Why? Are you afraid you’ll make a scene?”
“No, I’m afraid you will,” I said. I glared at him. The intensity in his voice set my nerves on edge. “I owe no one any explanation other than the one you got last night. I’ve said my part and I’m done. I’m out. Okay?”
“No, it isn’t okay. It’s a cop-out, Alex.”
He landed on the dirt and his hand wrapped around my wrist. When I faced him, his look of disappointment burned through me. I did this. I did all of it.
“I’m asking you for one conversation to figure out how in the hell we went from caring about each other to you acting like my opinion doesn’t matter,” he said. “That’s it. And I don’t mean the kind of conversation where you tell me all these horrible things and decide I don’t get a say in how I feel about them. I do get a say. I’ve earned that right.”
“You’ve earned nothing.”
“The hell I haven’t.” He let go of me, shaking his head as he paced the dirt. “From the moment you walked into this camp, I have done nothing but try to figure out a way to get past your wall of sarcasm and get to know the real you. I made an effort to figure out who you are, how you operate, and I ended up being the dumbass who accidentally caught feelings for someone who is too scared to let me in because they’re afraid I’ll judge them. That’s not me, Alex, and you don’t get to push me away because you think you know how I feel. I get a say in that.”
“You don’t get a say,” I said, “because you don’t know me, Grant. You know this girl, the one who acts like she has her shit together, but that’s not who I am. I’m a mess. I’m literally doing everything I can to hold myself together, but I can’t do that with you. You screw with my head.”
“And you don’t think you screw with mine?” He froze in his spot, his hands on his hips. “You’re literally the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met. You waltzed in here with no experience and no clue what you were getting yourself into, and somehow I ended up being the one who got caught in the shuffle.
“That version of you that you claim is so screwed up has nothing to do with the girl