“Tell me where you are. I’ll meet you there.” I looked like shit, but I could clean up quickly once I got home. I’d made up my mind, and I needed him to rip the Band-Aid off.
As much as it would sting and hurt, I wasn’t going to endure another week of whatever he was doing.
“I’m busy tonight. I can’t leave now, and it’s probably not a great idea for you to come here. Most of the team are at this party. How’s tomorrow for you?” His voice was quiet, distracted.
“Okay, fine. Tomorrow then.” I wasn’t about to go strolling into some party where my dad probably had a million eyes and ears. It would be suicide. Even without anyone finding out about James and me, my presence at a party like that would raise eyebrows.
I wasn’t sure that I cared about my dad finding out anymore, but James and Harper? I wasn’t about to risk it when their futures were at play. I could wait one more day for an answer.
He hesitated. “I’ll come to your place around 9?”
“Fine, but let me ask you something, James. Is there anything going on between us? Because if there isn’t, I need to know.” It was as out there as I’d put myself in years, maybe even ever.
“Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
Chapter Twenty-One
James
Ryder’s guest bedroom was empty except for me when I woke up that morning. I’d physically locked the door after I’d removed the third prospect from the bed.
I’d gone to the room to call it an early night after Gabrielle’s call, but the door kept being shoved open as girl after girl tried to claim her trophy. It was fucking exhausting.
It was way too early to be up, as the trail of unconscious bodies lining the way to the door suggested. I made it out without being called back that time and breathed a sigh of relief as I clicked the unlock button on my keys.
I dragged a hand over the scruff on my face. I’d let it grow that week. It was itchy. I hated it. It was coming off as soon as I got home. After I’d spent some time with Harper.
Then I’d get down to making an excuse to get out of seeing Gabrielle. I had been a good boy all week. I kept my promise to myself and backed off. I had only slipped up once by sending her a picture of my chute. She hadn’t responded. No surprise there.
My dick hated me for backing off. Shit, I hated me for it, but once my mind was made up, it tended to stay that way.
I should’ve ignored Gabrielle’s call the night before, but I’d been bored as shit at Ryder’s party. None of the fake tits and faker laughs held any appeal.
Also, as soon as her name came up on my display, the weirdest fucking feeling came over me. Like she needed me. I couldn’t ignore that.
Hearing her voice had hit me harder than it should have. Way fucking harder. Then when she asked me if there was anything going on between us, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
At the time, I’d told myself that she deserved to hear it in person and that was why I choked on the word.
The bright morning sun had burnt away the haze of alcohol and the sense of security brought on by the dark of night and shone a light on that part of me that knew that I’d lied to myself.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t been able to say the word and let her go without ever seeing her again, but it wasn’t only because she deserved to hear it in person.
My phone spun in the air and landed soundlessly back in my palms. I laid on my back on my bed, playing my own version of catch with my phone. I had to be at Gabrielle’s in an hour. I wanted to call her to cancel, but that didn’t seem fair to her.
Half an hour later, I grabbed my keys and hopped into the Rover. I was going to pick up dinner, go to her house, and tell her the truth.
“I wasn’t sure that you were going to show up,” Gabrielle said, swinging open her front door and ushering me inside.
My heart pounded at the sight of her. Fuck me; she was gorgeous.
Her soft curls were pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore no makeup, except for mascara that darkened her long lashes and accentuated her deep blue eyes. Those curves that drove me crazy were wrapped in a floral print sundress that made my fingers itch to rip it off.
My fists clenched at my sides to keep from doing just that.
You’re not a fucking caveman, Skye. Show some self-control, for fuck’s sake.
I cleared my throat. She was still waiting for my answer. “Neither was I.”