The Trouble With Love: An Age Gap Romance (The Forbidden Love 1)

“They’re disgusting.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

I release a breath. “I’m not avoiding your question. I was in a relationship, and it didn’t work out. End of story.”

Amelia’s gaze fixates on me, making me uncomfortable as the silence gives her time to think of something else to ask me. Something, I’m sure I’ll have no interest in answering.

“It sounds to me like you’re still in love with her.”

“C’mon, now you’re ridiculous.”

“Am I? Or am I so accurate that you’re terrified I unraveled some hidden secret you’ve been trying to keep because your heart is so broken?”

Narrowing my eyes, I fold my arms across my chest.

“You’re still as invasive as I remember you. I’m not heartbroken. In fact, I ended it. Satisfied?”

“Not really,” she counters, still watching me with a curious stare. “Now it opens up a whole other conversation about your fear of commitment.”

“For God’s sake, you really are still a pain in my ass,” I concur while grimacing. “What about you? You’re a relationship person, and now you’re single.”

“Yes, I am,” she mumbles, avoiding my gaze. “It’s college, right? Perfect time to be single.”

I agree in my head that no one should be tied down in college. The thought of her being single and jumping into different beds opens up another side to me I have to control, or this won’t end well.

“Just focus on studying, stay single.”

“Maybe, we’ll see.”

“What do you mean we’ll see?” I question with annoyance.

“It means that a woman has needs. Read between the lines, buddy.”

The waitress interrupts our conversation, clearing the table and placing the bill down. As Amelia reaches for it, I push her hand away, the same time my skin tingles with what feels like an electric shock. Pulling back, a small breath escapes her pink lips, but she covers it up with a cough.

The interruption times perfectly, this conversation potentially leading to a heated debate. After paying the bill, we exit the restaurant and walk back to the car. After an argument over who should drive back, she reluctantly hands over the keys as we make our way back to the city.

It’s mid-afternoon when we get back to my apartmen

t, and once again, the clouds have formed over the sky with the smell of rain in the air.

“Will you be okay driving home?” I ask, looking upward at the same time a roar of thunder echoes in the distance. “Why don’t you wait until the storm passes?”

“And do what exactly?”

Inside, I’m battling with the need to protect her from the unpredictable weather, which often causes erratic driving on the wet roads or to send her home. My urges jump from zero to one hundred when she does something minor like bite the corner of her lip.

You need to protect her.

That’s all—it’s about her safety.

“Hang?” I blurt out, distracted by my thoughts.

“Hang?” She laughs. “Hmm… I haven’t heard that in a while, but okay.”

And just like that, her teasing of my age only riles me up and reminds me how easily she can goad some sort of reaction from me. Out of nowhere, the rain begins to pelt from above us.

“Let’s go,” I mumble, heading toward the building. “If you come out of here alive, you better count your blessings.