arm falls from her face to the bed and her head flops in my direction. “You have never talked about their divorce.”
I shrug and think back to when Abby realized at the bar that I don’t talk much at all.
She rolls to her side, mirroring my position. “Do they hate each other? Do you see her? What’s your dad like?”
I scratch my head, feeling like I’m drowning under the questions. “They get along now. Took Dad a few years though. Mom left him for someone else and Dad was still in love with her. It’s not something he got over easy.” It’s not something he got over.
“Is she still with the other guy? And what changed her mind about you? And—”
“Why are you pushing me away?”
She blinks at the change of subject. “Because around me, you’re in danger.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her. “I thrive on danger.”
“This isn’t a game. It’s time for me to stop pretending that I’m a normal girl who has a normal life with normal friends.”
“We’re normal? Our group? That would be a first for any of us.”
She pushes my chest with enough force it nearly rocks me. “I’m not playing! What do I have to do to make you realize we can’t be around each other anymore? Do you think I like hurting you? Do you think this is fun for me?”
I snatch her wrist when she goes to nudge me again and the seriousness in my voice startles even me. “No, I don’t.”
A strand of her hair sticks to her cheek, and I lift it off, to behind her shoulder, then permit my fingers to skim along her arm. Abby edges closer, almost like she wants me to touch her as much as I crave the contact.
The instinct is to gather Abby near, and I don’t claim to understand it. I’ve dated other girls, kissed more than my fair share, but I’ve never been drawn to any of them like I am to her. As always, there’s a push and a pull between us. The need to devour her, yet run away.
Her hazel eyes look up at me and there’s a ton going on there. Confusion, pain, and as my fingers continue to caress her arm, a hint of lust. The lust I understand, but I don’t claim to be very good at any other emotion. Problem—neither is Abby. We’re both in uncharted territory.
“I can’t be your friend, Logan. I can’t be Isaiah’s friend or Rachel’s friend or West’s friend. You could have been killed and I’m not okay with that.”
“You could die.”
“That’s my choice. This little convo between us changes nothing. So if it makes you all feel better, I like all of you, but we’re no longer friends. Nonnegotiable. So, see ya.”
“According to you, I’m in danger because I saw who shot you. How is walking away from me helping my situation?”
“I made a deal with Linus. He’s claiming he saw the shooter and that you never entered the alley. Congrats, you are officially out of danger.”
Abby does the motion like she’s cleaning her hands and then shows me her palms, like we’re done, but I’m not done. “What was your end of the deal?”
“Not your problem.”
“It is my problem.”
Abby gives that dismissive smile—that one that crawls under my skin. The one that suggests she knows it all and the rest of the world understands nothing. “Explain to me how exactly my problems are your problems? We met through a mutual friend. We flirt. We play. Nowhere along the way did my problems become your problems.”
“We kissed,” I say and that man-eating grin only grows.
“You’re right, we kissed, and we both know it didn’t mean a thing. You and I don’t do attachments and what you’re asking for sounds an awful lot like caring.”
Her words leave a mark and it’s not one I’m proud of. She leans up on her elbow and that mask I’ve seen several times on her face, the one she wears when she works, when she’s on the streets is plastered on her face. “Can you do that, Logan? It’s one thing to play with me, but can you care for me?”
“You don’t think I care?” I rise up, looming over her.
“I think you’re mistaking attraction for caring. I think you’re a good guy who wants to save the girl, but I don’t need saving.” Abby slides into my personal space, her fingers walking erotically up my chest. “Can you fall for the drug dealer, the girl who