“That’s how it’s usually done.” Her voice is shaky, and a trembling exhale leaves her when I dip my head, my mouth right at her ear.
“Why do you keep doing this?” God, her scent drives me wild. She’s saying the craziest shit yet I still want her so damn bad. It’s like I first set eyes on her and I’m immediately horny, every single time. It’s ridiculous.
All-consuming.
“Keep doing what?” she asks breathlessly.
“You always push me away when shit gets bad. One little argument and now you’re trying to end it. That’s what couples do sometimes—they fight.”
“You think we’re a couple?” She sounds doubtful. Typical.
“I thought we had a good thing going.” I slip my arm around her waist, holding her to me, my mouth still by her ear. “You told me I run away from my problems, but so do you. Every time life throws a curveball your way, your first instinct is to bail.”
“Why the baseball reference? You’re a basketball player.” If she’s trying to tease me, her timing is awful. I growl near her ear and she leans into me like she can’t help herself, her body molding itself to mine, and damn, she feels good. “I don’t bail every single time,” she protests weakly.
The little liar. “You do too and you know it.” I spread my hand wide, my palm pressed against her stomach. “Let me inside, Jensen.” Those words mean way more than just me asking to come inside the apartment.
Let me inside your thoughts. Your life. Your heart.
“I was about to leave.”
I pull away and study her, really taking in her outfit. She’s wearing a black floral-print dress that nearly reaches her knees and black flats, her hair curled at the ends, a thin gold necklace wound around her neck. “Where are you going?”
She turns slightly and hip checks me, so I have no choice but to take a step back. “None of your business.”
I throw my hands up in the air, frustration rolling through me, pushing me straight to the edge. “Come the fuck on. This is getting old.”
Jensen fully faces me, her expression neutral. “I agree. It is getting old. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
“That we’re done! We’re through! Quit trying to make what we have into something real. It’s not. It never has been. We’re too different. It would never work between us.” There’s frustration in her voice, and she’s slinging her words at me like weapons, but something tells me what she’s saying is kind of…
Phony?
Maybe not, though. Maybe that’s me hoping she’s full of shit.
When I’m quiet for a too long moment, she practically shrieks, “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“You really believe that.” My voice is flat while my emotions are kicking into chaos. Does she actually believe what she’s saying?
She lifts her chin, looking determined. The tiniest bit scared. “I really believe that,” she whispers.
Backing away from her, I slowly shake my head. “You need time, I think,” I say just before I turn and make my way toward the parking lot. More like I need time to figure out what’s going on.
“Time won’t help us, Rhett,” she yells after me, but I don’t respond.
I’m too busy heading for my car, my mind filled with everything I need to do.
It may take me a while, but I will get to the bottom of this.
I have to.
Jensen
I posted my resume on one of those job search websites at Savannah’s urging, and out of nowhere I receive an email this morning requesting an interview for later this afternoon.
“I’ve had my resume on that site for years,” Savannah tells me as I’m putting on the last of my makeup in the bathroom we share. “And no one has ever contacted me like that. Not once.”