“You okay?” he demands gruffly, placing his hand on my forearm to stop us from walking.
I grimace as he touches the fresh bruises from my earlier encounter with my father and quickly try to mask my face expression, but I know he saw when his eyes narrowed on the spot. He never seems to miss anything with those sharp seafoam green eyes. He slides his fingers to my wrist and pushes up my sleeve before I can stop him. Five, deep purple, finger shaped bruises wrap around my arm, and I try to swat his fingers away with my other hand, but he grabs my wrist and places my hand on his chest to distract me. His heart is beating rapidly, but by the blank expression he’s directing at my arm, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He traces each mark against my pale skin with gentle fingers, and I realize I’m holding my breath around him again.
“I’m fine,” I whisper softly, and feel like once again, it’s just the two of us in the quiet night, removed from the flashing lights of cars driving by and the sounds of the city.
He carefully pushes my sleeve back down and clasps my fingers with his, then gives them a small squeeze. He finally looks at me, and I see a hundred emotions cross his face—anger, sadness, admiration, and last, determination.
“As my girlfriend—” he starts to say, but I interrupt him before he can speak more.
“Fake girlfriend. I’m not sure why you did it, but I have to ask—why me? You could have any girl you want,” I tell him truthfully, and really hope that doesn’t stroke his ego even more than it already is.
He glances up at the sky, muttering under his breath about stubborn women, and I get to stare at him shamelessly. I stare at that strong jawline of his, down to his throat, and I have the sudden desire to lick my way up until I make it to his lips. With those thoughts, I start to wonder who the hell I am and feel the need to put a little space between us. My hands fall to my sides, and I take a small step back, blowing into my hands, even though they’re warm and tingling from his body heat. He glances down and releases a pent up breath as if preparing himself.
“Victoria is my ex, who cheated on me with Jeff and lied about a lot of other stuff. She keeps trying to get me back, and I’m sick of the college girls hanging off of me to get into my pants. I really just want to be left alone, but I saw the opening when you used me. You pretend to be my girlfriend, and I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he declares, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s as simple as that.
I’m flabbergasted and wondering why Victoria would cheat on Granger with Jeff, then bile fills my mouth as I remember the possessive way I saw her stare at Granger earlier. It’s not healthy at all. She definitely wants him back, and I wonder what other lies she could’ve told to make him this closed off to other people.
“I really don’t see what I could be getting out of this? I can usually handle Jeff, but tonight I really just didn’t want to deal with him. That’s why I told everyone you’re my boyfriend.” I blush when he arches an eyebrow at me and bites his lip, then he looks down and his shoulders start shaking.
The ass is laughing at me, so I roll my eyes and start walking again with angry jerky movements. For the life of me, I don’t know why I’m mad, he just has an effect on me. He starts following me, his arm brushing mine with each step, but he doesn’t say anything for a few blocks. I can tell something is heavy on his mind. He’s looking down with his eyebrows pinched together and his strong jaw flexing. My teeth start chattering at some point, and even though I want to be warm, I don’t want to go to my father’s. I wish I could stay at Mary’s… Shit. I’m a horrible friend.
“I have to go back! I can’t believe I forgot about Mary! I’m supposed to make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble. Dear God. I’m a horrible friend,” I cry out in dismay and start to turn around, but he places a hand on my back to keep me going forward.
I’m about to lay one into him for being bossy as hell without any words, but it dies on my tongue when he shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s warm from his body heat and smells just like him. Would he think I’m a total creep if I started sniffing his jacket? Probably.
“Beast has her, don’t worry. He’ll take care of her, he’s a good guy. He’s probably already holding her hair back as she pukes her guts up. He’s that kind of guy,” he mumbles as he pulls out his phone and shoots off a text.
I feel like I need to go back and get her. Even though he said this Beast guy is one of the good guys, it’s hard for me to trust his word on this. Chewing my lip, I debate with myself until I hear him snort and turn his phone to me. A giggle escapes me as I look at the picture on his phone. Mary is curled in a ball on someone’s bed—Beast’s I’m guessing—with her mouth open and drooling in her sleep. Half of Beast’s face is showing with him looking up at the ceiling exasperated, but I notice the death grip she has on his hand, as if in her sleep she refuses to let go. Man, she’s going to
