Perfectly Toxic (Sterling Shore 9)

I refuse to tell her I’ve never felt a kiss like that unless I was in the middle of having sex, when my guard would go down and I could feel… Yeah, that’s too fucked up to admit.

“This—” She points between us. “—can’t work. You don’t even want anything serious. I’ve heard all about Ethan Noles and how he wants to party like he never got the chance to. I’ve heard all about how you want to chase the fun you missed out on when you dove into work for your father’s company after his heart attack.”

That has me tensing. People have been telling her about me? I guess it’s only fair, since they’ve been filling me in on her.

“Something wrong with that?” I ask, trying to sound bored, but it’s more annoyed than I intend.

“Not at all,” she says with a shrug. “I already told you that. It’s just not what I want in my life. I’ve already done all that. You and I are not in the same place, and…” Her words trail off as her eyes rake over me. “And I’m assuming women—lots of them—will also be on your making-up-for-lost-time agenda.”

“You’ve assumed a lot of things about me,” I remind her. “Has anything been right so far?”

That resolve in her eyes cracks just a little. I have no idea what I’m doing besides playing with fire. She’s flat-out told me she doesn’t want anything casual, and that’s all I promised I would do when I finally got to come home. I sure as hell didn’t want to end up in a serious relationship anytime soon.

Yet I’m begging her to give me a chance, knowing what she wants. She’s Allie’s age, which makes her about twenty-five or twenty-six. Way too young to be settling down for good.

“Look,” I say, sitting up a little straighter as I clasp my hands together and hold her eyes with mine. “You’ve been dating these pathetic douches that you have zero interest in. What’s the worst that could happen between us? Why are you so hell bent on getting serious this young anyway?”

She bites her lip, acting as though she’s unsure of whether or not she wants to answer. I’m just now realizing she’s in her scrubs, and I glance at the clock behind her, noting it’s five in the afternoon. Is that what time she gets off? Why do I care? So I can better stalk her?

When I look back at her, she sighs while leaning back.

“You know about Tag, right?”

My entire body tenses.

“What about Tag?”

She looks a little surprised, and then a blush hits her cheeks.

“Never mind. Forget it.”

“Oh hell no. Now you have to tell me. If you think I already know, then that means everyone else knows. Don’t make me call one of them right now while I hold you captive.”

She groans while running a hand through her hair. It slides through her hair like silk ribbons, and I struggle not to feel it for myself. It’s been years since I felt silk.

She snaps me out of my inner reverie when she speaks. “Fine. Whatever. It was years ago, but it’s embarrassing.” She scowls at me like she’s pissed she has to say whatever it is, but I’m getting increasingly pissed by the second.

“So back when Wren and Allie hooked up the first time, I was fresh out of high school and I was really, really wild. Tag was with Wren that night, and well, yeah…”

I shouldn’t want to punch one of my best friends right now, but I do. This girl makes me violent.

“You hooked up with him? And that made you never want to…? I’m confused. Leave out the details, because I can’t think about you and Tag together, but explain the rest.”

“Tag told me his name, but when the time came to remember, I couldn’t. When Allie turned up pregnant with Wren’s kid and he’d given her a fake last name, all I had to do was remember Tag’s last name. But, like I said, I couldn’t. So I told her I was too drunk to remember it.”

“Tag doesn’t do drunk chicks,” I immediately point out, feeling better. They didn’t have sex—

“I know,” she says with a guilty expression. “I said I told Allie I was too drunk. But I was sober. I just couldn’t admit at the time that I was so out of control that I didn’t even bother to remember their names anymore. I changed after that. It took that to make me change. I didn’t do wild, reckless, nameless sex ever again. I started dating and getting into serious relationships.”

“Why do I feel like someone with tattoos fucked you over and now you’re going to tell me I remind you of him?” I ask, feeling labeled.

She smiles, surprising me, and shakes her head. “It wasn’t one guy, and it wasn’t the tattoos. It was the cocky attitude, the overly confident air about them, and the fuck-off vibe they gave the rest of the world. I kept trying to be special to someone who wouldn’t care about just anyone.” Her smile falls. “I was never special,” she admits, shrugging like it’s no big deal, even though I see the insecurity that surfaces with the confession.

This is getting real, and normally this is where I exit. Instead, I take a long draw off my milkshake, and gesture for her to go on. Because I can’t seem to force myself to l

eave.

Chapter 13