“Bullshit,” he bites out, finally snapping and turning around to face me. “Don’t tell me he didn’t try to feel you up after I left.” Face red with anger, Asshat Levi waits for me to discount his accusation.
“He didn’t. We didn’t even cuddle.”
“So he didn’t try to take advantage of you when he walked you home? Didn’t insist on coming up to see the place? Didn’t mention having a cup of coffee or a nightcap?”
“Where the hell is all of this animosity coming from? Levi, he didn’t even walk me home. I rode the subway by myself.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself, but I do. And I kind of hate him for it.
This certain piece of information is enough for him to pause Stranger Things. Shoving himself up from the couch, he stalks toward me.
“He didn’t walk you home?” His voice is cool. Collected.
How in the world is he mad at me for that too? I swear, I can’t make this guy happy no matter what I say.
With a deep breath, I attempt to explain myself. “Well no, but—”
“Why the hell didn’t he walk you home?”
“Because I told him I was a big girl and could get home by myself.”
“I don’t care if you lived next door. There is no reason”—his nostrils flare—“Let me repeat, no reason why you should’ve walked home by yourself. Even though we’ve known each other forever, have I ever let you walk home by yourself?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply because we both know the answer. Gripping his neck, his fingers turn white. “What a motherfu—”
“Levi!” I yell. “It isn’t any of your business whether or not he walks me home. Just like it isn’t any of your business whether I kiss on the first date, let alone have sex with him on a bench in Central Park with a film crew nearby. I’m allowed to do what I want, and if you have a problem with it, then why the hell did you set me up with him in the first place?”
Muscles bunching beneath his button-up shirt, his hands tighten at his sides. It’s clear he’s close to snapping. In fact, I might’ve already pushed him over the edge.
“Tell me something,” he whispers with a low growl.
“What’s that?” I reply just as quietly, ignoring the pull between us that’s stronger than a damn magnet. It’s begging me to close the distance between us, and if I were a stronger person, I’d throw in the towel and stop fighting it. Because digging my heels in and battling him is the weaker option instead of just…giving in and showing him how I really feel.
“Did he kiss you like I did?” he murmurs quietly, staring down at me. There’s a challenge in his voice, though I don’t know what it means.
“Levi, our kiss wasn’t real.”
“Answer the question.”
“No,” I murmur. “It was different.”
He takes another deliberate step toward me. My breathing quickens, my chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths, but I don’t move a muscle. I’m not sure I’d be able to even if I tried.
“How was it different?” he pushes.
“I don’t know.”
“Was he a better kisser?”
“Levi—”
“Was he? Did he make your toes curl? Did he make the tight little boy shorts beneath that leather skirt wet? Did he make you want him more than your next breath? Did he make you curious about what it would be like if he laid you down and—”
“Stop,” I whisper, cutting him off while squeezing my thighs together.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t answer me? Or no, he didn’t make you feel those things?”
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I stare at his mouth. The memories of our kiss do weird things to my body before his arm reaches out, and he grabs my chin in a punishing grip. Tilting my head up, he commands my attention.