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My stomach is hot.

That’s it. I need to confront him and leave. That’s my plan, so that’s what I’m going to do.

I get out of my car and head directly for him. He’s on the other side of the lane, leaning against the back of his car.

It’s not until I see the smirk on his face and his eyes meet mine that I realize…

He knew I was here. He was expecting me to confront him.

How does he know what my car looks like?

Who am I kidding? He can probably get any information he wants.

“Finally,” he says before taking another drag.

I shove my hands into my coat pockets, not wanting him to see the way my fingers twitch nervously.

“You want a smoke?” he asks, and offers me the cigarette that was just between his lips.

A small part of me, perhaps not as small as I want to admit, wants to reach out and take it. Not to smash it on the ground, but to place it between my lips and taste him on the filter.

My pulse is in my ears again, and I haven’t even started talking.

“Don’t mess with me,” I choke out. Not exactly what I’d planned.

Dante laughs at me.

“I can do a lot more than mess with you, baby,” he tells me.

I huff and stand up straighter. “Lena told me you threatened her. I don’t care what your problem with me is, but you need to leave her out of it.”

Dante tilts his head as he takes another drag, then blows the smoke right at me.

I cough, but something inside of me wants him to do it again. I want to smell it on me later, inhale what was just in his lungs.

What is wrong with me?

“I could leave her outta it. Or you could,” he says.

“What do you even mean? Nothing you say ever makes sense,” I tell him, my voice rising a bit.

His voice is low—rough, but not loud, not drawing any attention but mine.

“It does, you just don’t want it to,” he says.

I step closer to him. “What I want is for you to leave Lena and me alone.”

“Lena and me…Jesus fucking Christ. Do you always talk like this? Lighten up, loosen up. Not everything is a fucking exam.” Dante waves his hand, sending ashes flying through the breeze.

“Just leave her alone,” I reiterate. My face and neck are pink now. I try to tell myself it’s from the colder weather, and nothing else. My hands are balled into fists in my pockets.

“Tell me, Ethan, does the idea of fucking every woman repulse you, or just her?” Dante asks.

I freeze, just staring at him.

“I thought so,” he chuckles. “How long do you think before she figures it out? Maybe she already has.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And neither do you,” I say through gritted teeth. My knees feel weak as he steps even closer.