Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,37

Zoe stamps her foot. “Maybe it wasn’t rabies. It was just straight-up bad judgment, and I’ll own that. I’m a full-grown adult, and so are you. So, I’m saying that at lunch tomorrow, there is no way in harging heck you can mention this to your mom. She would be so scarred if she found out that we were…uh—”

“Bumping uglies?”

“Don’t call it that! Jesus!” Zoe spins around. She goes to storm off down the path, but then she stops. She slowly spins around, her face scarlet.

“You forgot you were lost. You don’t know which way to go,” I state flatly. I’m really not making fun of her, but she obviously takes it that way, so up goes her jawline again as the traditional Zoe stubbornness kicks in.

“Sometimes, I hate you.”

“You used to say that back when we were kids, too. I always knew you never meant it.”

“I mean it now.”

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

I push up slowly, testing my equilibrium and sense of gravity, but everything seems to be fine. I don’t exactly know why I fainted, or sort of fainted just now. I’m kind of embarrassed about that. Was it the blood? Or was it just being completely uncertain of what caused it? I had no idea what bit me. Not that I thought a rattlesnake could have launched itself from the treetops and landed, mouth open, right on my forehead, but then again, panic isn’t rational. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I feel pretty stupid now, but I do my best to hide it, and part of that is diverting the attention from myself. It’s an asshole move, I know.

“The tattoo. On your hip. When I was down there, I got a good look at it!”

“You…you…just…argh!” Zoe storms off down the path in the wrong direction. I start off the other way, waiting. I only have to wait a few minutes before Zoe power walks right past me. She’s moving so fast that I swear dust is flying up from her runners.

“You said you had it covered up.”

“I say lots of things. And so do you. You’re hardly one to talk,” Zoe huffs without turning around to actually look at me. “Why do you want to get in my pants so bad anyway? I’m not even your type.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a type.”

“You do. Gorgeous women. Flawless women. Expensive looking women. Successful, beautiful, and out of everyone else’s league kind of women.”

“I dated people who pursued me. Sometimes, it felt right. Most of the time, it was mutually no strings attached. I can’t think of a single one who even holds a candle to you.”

Zoe spins around and marches back to me. She’s seriously pissed, and I have no clue why, because I thought that was a compliment.

“Why would you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Just to make me even angrier? Just to mess with my head? To get under my skin? You’re already under it!” Her nostrils flare. She means business. “You don’t have to rub it in that I’ll never look like those women. If I’m just some weird conquest, then whatever. You’ve accomplished it. You can stop trying now. You can leave me alone. And you can let me quit like I want to. Clearly, we should never be in the same room again.”

“Or maybe we should never be out of the same room again. Maybe we’re good for each other. Maybe we’re what each other needed all along.”

“That’s the world’s worst idea.”

“No. You said you felt it too—some kind of madness. And you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You want me. I want you. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Everything! I thought it was rabies. I still think it’s rabies, and rabies is never a good thing! Anyway, I doubt you could satisfy me even if we did keep this up. You only last about three and a half seconds.”

“That’s not what your screams said earlier.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I might be, but you’re not. You’re amazing. You might not look like a model, and you might not be an artist or an actress. You might not make tons of money, and people might not know your name, but I know your name. And I think you’re beautiful. I know for a fact that you’re not perfect, but that’s what makes you real. I told you before, and I meant it, you’re you, and that’s the best thing on the whole fucking earth. Don’t sell yourself short just because you want to try and prove a point or get back at me.”

Zoe’s

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