Page 62 of Bitter When He Begs

“Second of all,” I continue, yanking at another knob with more force than necessary, “I’m lending you my camera. This one is beyond saving, and fuck you again for making me do this.”

“I think you’re just bad at fixing things,” he says, smirking like an asshole.

I glare at him, adjusting my glasses as I hold up the camera. “I think you’re bad at owning things that don’t belong in a landfill.”

He snorts. “It’s vintage.”

“It’s a fucking doorstop at this point,” I correct. “The fact that it still turns on is a miracle. A divine act of God.”

Roman leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still smirking. “Then why do you keep trying to fix it?”

I sigh, setting the camera down and rubbing my temples. “Because I made the mistake of caring about your dumb ass, and now I have to suffer the consequences.”

He grins. “Admit it, you love me.”

I pick up a roll of tape from the floor and throw it at his head, but he dodges and laughs. “I regret every choice that led me to this moment,” I say, fighting back a grin despite myself.

I force myself to focus on adjusting the settings on his disaster of a setup. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to help again. And even though this is literally the third time this month I’ve had to step in and fix something for him, I can’t bring myself to be annoyed about it.

Roman is good people.

And after everything, I need good people.

Even if he is a pain in the ass, and I probably do this to myself as some sort of punishment.

I’m still kneeling in front of the camera when I hear footsteps from the hallway. The sound is distant at first, casual conversation mixed in with it, but a sensation prickles at the back of my neck before I even look up. A familiar, unavoidable awareness settles over me.

When I finally lift my head and glance toward the door, I know why.

Luca walks in with Eli and Thorn, all of them relaxed. Luca’s got a pool cue in one hand, his hoodie pushed up to his elbows, his blond hair slightly damp like he just came from practice. His eyes skim the room as he steps inside, barely hesitating before landing on me, and when they do, he smiles like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t completely fuck with my head.Nope.It fucking doesn’t.

I grip my knee, pretending to be entirely focused on Roman’s shitty camera while my chest tightens traitorously.

It’s been three months since I walked out of his room.

Three months since he told me he had to let me go.

Three months since I told myself I’d stop caring, stop thinking about him, stop feeling whatever the hell this is.

And yet here I am, stillOliver Twist-type fucking stupid over him.

More, more, more…

I don’t even have time to react before he turns away, leaning over the table like we didn’t just have that moment, like he didn’t just send my entire brain into a tailspin.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to act like my chest isn’t suddenly tight, or my stomach hasn’t flipped over itself.

Roman shuffles next to me, lowering his voice. “He’s been doing well.”

I pause and turn to face him. He isn’t looking at me, but I know he’s paying attention. I have no fucking idea how he knows anything about what happened between us, and I don’t ask.

I breathe out, pressing a button on the camera that I definitely don’t need to press. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Been avoiding the party scene. Cutting back and staying clean.” He glances at me then. “You shouldn’t worry, we’ve got him.”

I want to tell him I don’t. I want to tell him it’s not my problem, that Luca isn’t my responsibility, that what he does with his life has nothing to do with me anymore.