Crazy in Love

That wasn’t tenderness in his eyes earlier. I’m so dumb.

Why do I always have to fall for the bad boys? Surely, there’s one good man in this universe who’s made just for me.

When I approach, he turns his attention to me, angling my way. I don’t care if I make a scene or embarrass him when I say, “Why did I think we could be anything more than enemies?”

Confusion contorts his expression, furrowing his brow. “What are you talking about, Tatum?” He holds a drink forward. “I was getting us drinks.”

The two women standing on either side of him have the gall to look away from me awkwardly as though I’m the one who should be ashamed. “I don’t want another drink with you. I thought . . .” My twisted emotions get caught in my throat. Taking a breath, I look around to calm down. I refuse to fill the irrational female role. “I thought we could actually get a second chance at being friends, but you’re no different than when you had the first chance and blew it.” I take the drink, gulping some down, and then empty the rest on his chest.

The women squeal in horror as they jump back, both shaking their hands from the liquid that splattered on them.

“Fuck,” he growls. That fire I felt earlier flickers to life in his eyes, and I recognize the feeling, finding comfort that it wasn’t jealousy.

Why would I be jealous of anything having to do with this man? “Go to hell, Harrison.” I turn and squeeze my way through the crowd to get to the exit.

When I make it outside, the early June air hits. It’s not quite cool anymore like last month but not insufferable like August. Yet somehow, a chill runs down my spine as my eyes spike with tears. I hate feeling weak, but I know it’s just the alcohol messing with me. Nothing more. Not that stupid man or anything else to do with him.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Screw him. Damn all men and their inability to be faithful to someone who shows them an ounce of kindness.

When I open my eyes, I’m met with a night sky of blue eyes. That anger I thought I was familiar with isn’t residing in his pupils. With that dirty blond hair stuck to his forehead, Harrison says, “It’s not ending like this.”

“What isn’t?” I play dumb, hoping he doesn’t see through my innocent act. I just need to get out of here with my heart and mind intact. My heart? What does my heart have to do with this?

“Us. You and I, Tatum. I should have fucking texted. Okay? Happy?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Not particularly.”

“Neither am I, so where does that leave us?”

“Stop asking me these questions like I have the answers.” Raising my voice, I continue, “I don’t. I don’t know about you, us, or anything else happening between us other than I lowered my walls, and you trampled your way inside only to turn around at the first sign of a hot woman, or two, hitting on you.” I mumble, “God, why am I even arguing with him?”

I storm down the sidewalk, pulling my phone from the pocket on my belt to order a car. My pace doesn’t break as I head toward the corner, refusing to waste my time on that man. I’ve been hurt before, and I’m not going down that road again. I play hard to get better than I’ll ever be the easy catch for many reasons. Seeing Harrison flirting with those women the first chance he gets is one of them.

“Hey!” His voice hits my back and grabs every other person’s attention in the vicinity. That’s not embarrassing at all . . . “Tatum.”

The interesting part is that he doesn’t seem to be asking but demanding. That’s not going to end well for him. Not that the night was a cakewalk prior. I whip around and plant my hands on my hips. “Don’t you ever speak to me that way. Do you understand, Decker?”

“I understand that you’re taking your anger caused by every guy who ever did you wrong out on me. And I’ll let you, but you know what, Devreux?”

“What?” Bitterness coats my tongue, but I don’t shy away from the confrontation. I was so stupid to think he could change or that he was different. He wasn’t four and a half years ago, and he isn’t now.

“I’m not going to dwell on this or continue wondering how I can get in your good graces. You’re a beautiful woman, but in one night, I saw beyond the skin-deep shield you hold up to the world to protect yourself. I saw someone special, not because of her beauty but her heart.”

A car honks to my left that matches the description on the app, but his words cause me to hesitate. I turn back to him and take a deep breath. “You can run away, but I’ve seen you, the real person inside,” he adds.