on my lower lip. The roughness of it, the heat while he was flicking it back and forth, almost playing with my flesh.
And I was letting him.
I was letting him play with my lip, with my witchy heart. With me.
But not anymore.
“You can keep your reminders to yourself because I’ve got something to say to you,” I snap.
Even though he hasn’t moved away from the wall, I know he has lost all his casualness. It’s in the way his eyes flash and his jaw clamps.
“And that is?”
I take a step closer to him and stab my finger in the air. “What you said to me last night was horrible. It was awful and completely uncalled for and you know it. You fucking know it. You treated me like shit and that’s not cool. Actually, no.” I pause and take a deep breath, and then say all the things that I didn’t even know were bubbling up inside of me. “You’ve been treating me like shit since you arrived, when I’ve been nothing but nice to you. I don’t deserve your assholishness and cruelty and your public humiliation and your stupid propositioning. So apologize to me. Right now.”
When I’m done, I’m breathing hard and I’m sweating like crazy. My finger that still hovers in the air is trembling.
That could also be because he’s looking at it.
He’s staring at my finger and he does it for a second or two before looking up.
But even then, he doesn’t look into my eyes, no. For some insane reason, he’s staring at my nose. He’s staring really hard at it and I don’t know what to think.
I’m about to speak up when he finally looks away and up into my eyes, tipping his chin at me. “You’re right.”
“I’m right?”
“You didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t?”
“That’s what I said.”
I stare up at him, my neck craned, my finger tired and shaking, still pointed at him. “So you’re apologizing. You’re saying you were wrong.”
Was it that easy?
He straightens up then, his chest expanding on a sharp sigh. “You want to get your finger out of my face and move?”
I curl my finger into my hand and bring it down to my side. “Why?”
His cheekbones thrum with irritation. “You don’t want to be my distraction, do you?”
I swallow as another shiver rolls down my spine. “No.”
“Then stop wasting my time and get out of my way.”
I do the opposite.
I plant myself in his way. I widen my feet and stand my ground.
Slowly, very slowly, Arrow glances down at my soccer cleats, and I tighten my muscles. I watch as he grits his teeth once, twice. Three times.
Before he raises his dark blue eyes. “I thought you didn’t need me to remind you that you’re just the little sister.”
His words hit me somewhere in my chest but still, I don’t budge. “I don’t.”
“So is there a reason why you’re acting like a jealous little groupie again?”
That one hits me too, but I refuse to move.
I refuse to get out of his way so he can go to that girl and do things with her. Ask her to be his distraction for the night, touch her lip with his thumb and smirk at her.
“Yes.” I raise my chin.
“I’m all ears,” he clips, his bright eyes shooting fire.
“I’m not a thief,” I tell him with a determined voice. “You called me a thief, didn’t you? You asked if it was my thing, stealing? It’s not. I don’t steal things. For your information, I worked. I had a job at a restaurant. Ever heard of St. Mary’s Date Diner? All the high school kids go there. You went there, remember? I worked there as a waitress. I work. For money. I only stole that money from your mom because I needed the cash. I’d just bought myself a new pair of soccer cleats and so I didn’t have any savings left and I needed to get out of here as soon as possible, understand? And I was going to give it back to her. The entire one hundred and sixty-seven dollars. Once I was settled somewhere and had a job again, okay? And you’d know that if you’d bothered to ask me rather than throwing out accusations.”
Okay, so I had a lot of anger inside of me tonight. More than I was anticipating.
But whatever.
It’s not as if I’m lying. I did work at that restaurant. But I only started working there after he left for California with my sister. That I chose that restaurant