Page 77 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“Great choice of words, Megan,” I mutter, grateful she can’t hear me over the music.

“Look, obviously there’s something going on with you. You can go home if you want. I’ll cover for you.”

I shake my head, giving her a grateful smile. “I’m good. Really. Thanks, though.”

I want nothing more than to get Easton home as soon as possible, but I’m not about to leave my first official shift early and risk getting fired. I like this job, and I want to keep it. Besides that, I’m trying to prove myself to Easton.

Only ninety minutes to go. I can do this.

I can’t do this.

Ninety-seven minutes later, I’m ready to explode. As soon as Megan and I finish closing up, I all but run out the door, finding Easton standing on the sidewalk waiting for me. He’s grinning like a fool. Even with how worked up I am, I can’t help grinning too.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“They don’t call me sunshine for nothing,” he jokes.

I huff a laugh, then hit him with a half-hearted glare. I better be the only one who calls him that. “Who’sthey?”

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles and leads the way to my car, his pace quicker than usual. I walk just as quickly, eager to get home.

“You okay to drive?”

I nod and pull my seat belt on. “Just don’t turn the plug on while I’m—” I look down at his open hand, taking the remote from him with a small, knowing smile. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to distract me while I’m driving.

“Where’s Carter?” I ask.

“He left a couple hours ago.”

“Who did he leave with?”

“No one. He went home alone.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just he doesn’t seem like the type to leave the club without at least one guy on his arm. I heard he takes two home with him sometimes.”

He lifts a brow.

I shrug. “Xavi’s got a big mouth.”

The drive home feels like it takes forever. When we finally get back to the house, he snatches the remote back and takes me up to his room, shoving me down on his bed and crawling on top of me, his face close to mine. He pins my wrists down on either side of my head, and I drop my gaze to his mouth, wishing he would kiss me.

He doesn’t.

“Please,” I say quietly.

“No.”

I swallow. “Why not?”

He narrows his eyes, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing I am. Four years ago, when we were together, I told him something I now wish I hadn’t.