21
CLAIRE
Johnny must think I’m a freaking pathetic loser.
One minute, my lunatic ex-boyfriend is blowing up my phone, and the next I’m opening up about childhood trauma caused by my estranged mother.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I do.
I do too much, actually.
And I hate it.
For each question he asked me, I had to force myself not to confess everything to him. There's this instinctual pull, this need to declare my inner thoughts and feelings, and for him to do the same. It's like we're on some private wavelength with an invisible thread that ties us together.
Or I’m losing my mind. That’s probably it. There’s possiblynothingbetween us, and I’m detecting something that isn’t there at all.
That would make much more sense than the alternative.
I take a drink of my cooling coffee and flip my phone over to check the time.
There are seven missed calls from Griffin, four voicemails, and twenty-two text messages.
“You sure everything is okay?” Johnny breaks through the silence. He rakes his fingers through his hair, completely distracting me from the current disaster taking over my cell.
“Yeah.” I swallow and have to look away.
Even with the healing cuts and bruises on his face, he’s still incredibly good-looking, with his long, dark lashes and piercingly green eyes. I didn’t realize such a vibrant color like that existed until he walked—or well, bumped—into my life.
My cheeks flush and betray me.
“Hey.” He reaches out and touches my shoulder gently. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“How do you know what I deserve?” My words come out much harsher than I intend.
I could be a terrible person. A selfish and cruel one who kicks puppies or something. I could have been cheating on Griffin or treating him poorly. I could have been abusing or taking advantage of him.
“Claire.” Johnny tilts his head. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize what kind of person you are.”
His declaration startles me. He says this but then treats me like I’m a nuisance to his life. His words and actions don’t align, and he constantly contradicts everything. One minute we can’t be friends. The next he’s bringing me coffee and rescuing me from falling on my face at the bar. It’s like hewantsto be a good guy, but something stops him and turns him into the opposite.
What Bram told me at the diner suddenly floats into my head.
“That’s a cover up. There’s a lot more to him than what meets the eye.”
Which is it? Is Johnny a wolf in sheep’s clothing or a sheep in wolf’s clothing?
I think deep down I already know the answer to that question, I’m just not willing to admit it until he does.
And if he’s not going to confess, I won’t play into his game.
I turn toward my stack of stuff. “I think we’re good for the day. Why don’t you finish those chapters, and we can discuss it later?” I shove everything inside my backpack and rise from the table.
“Um, yeah, sure.” He shuffles to his feet. “I…I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Listen.” I struggle with my train of thought. “When I said pretend to get along for the sake of our assignments, I didn’t mean you had to fake like you care. I get it. Really. We aren’t friends. That’s fine. I don’t need your pity.”
“Wait.” Johnny reaches out to stop me when I try to pass him. “That’s not what this is about, Claire. I get it, I’ve been an asshole to you, but that is not a reflection of whoyouare. That’s on me. I don’t want to be this way, I have to. But don’t you dare doubt for a second that you deserve anything less than the best.”