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His gaze hardens, as does his expression. “What you said was bullshit.”

“What I said was meaningless. Or did I hurt your little feelings?” I turn on my heel and storm out of the library, heading straight for my dorm building. God, he’s infuriating. I don’t even know why I’m so upset at running into him in the library,but seeing him sparked something inside me. Irritation and desire. Always the desire.

The library doors clang shut and I can hear him shouting my name like a scorned boyfriend. I pick up my pace, desperate to get away from him. I’m almost into a full-blown run when he catches up with me, grabbing hold of my arm and stopping me. Twisting me around so I have no choice but to face him.

And when I do, I don’t want to look at his face. He’s too handsome, too intoxicating and my hormones always react. I stare at his chest instead, the charcoal gray hoodie he’s wearing and how he manages to look classy and sophisticated even in the most basic of outfits. Rich men are the worst.

“You did,” he says, faintly breathless, and I tilt my head back, staring into his eyes when I told myself I wouldn’t look at his face. But he’s too alluring, too freakingmuch.

I frown, confused. “I did what?”

“Hurt my feelings,” he bites out, and I wonder how difficult that was for him, admitting that.

My brows shoot up and I decide to fuck with him. “You have feelings?”

“I know, right? It’s baffling. I was confused myself. That’s why I ran out of your room that night. What you said, fucked with my head. More than that, it enraged me.”

“What did I even say?” I sort of remember, sort of don’t. That entire night is a blur to me now because of all the things that happened.

“Your exact quote was, ‘I don’t care.’ After I asked you if you wanted to have sex with me.” His voice is stiff, his cheeks ruddy with…what? Embarrassment? Come on.

When I hear him say those words though, the memories come flooding back, reminding me of our conversation. “I meant I didn’t care if Elise was coming back to my room. You asked me about that too. And I said I didn’t care because in that moment, the entire building could’ve filed into my roomand it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I was that caught up in you.”

I press my lips together the moment the words leave me, mortified. I should’ve never admitted that. I don’t want to give him all the power.

His brows draw together as if he’s trying to recall our conversation. “Really? You weren’t referring to?—”

It’s his turn to press his lips together, going quiet. But I know what he was going to say, and he’s right. I wasn’t referring to him.

We stand in front of each other for maybe thirty seconds tops and he’s shaking his head, that familiar look of disgust on his face. “This is pointless. You said we needed space and you were right. I think we might need it—permanently.”

He pushes past me, his shoulder knocking into mine like he wanted that one last point of contact between us and I turn to watch him go, anger rising within me. Emboldening me. “Why do you say that? Because you’re too scared of your feelings? Oh right, you don’t have any.”

August keeps walking, though his pace slows.

“Keep running away from your emotions, August! I’m sure it’s a Lancaster trait!” I am shouting at him, as loud as can be and not caring who hears me. Not that there are a lot of people outside at the moment. Feels like it’s pretty much just the two of us.

He comes to a stop in the middle of the walkway, tilting his head back to stare at the darkening sky. Resting his hands on his hips. I don’t move, keeping my gaze on him, curious as to what he might do next. And he doesn’t disappoint.

Turning, he strides toward me, his expression determined. “You don’t know what my family is like, so don’t bother trying to figure them out.”

“Did I hit a nerve?” My brows shoot up in question. I’veheard of his ruthless father. He sounds like a giant dick. Like father, like son.

“Yes, only because you’re so fucking wrong.” He grabs my hand, jerking me to him and our bodies collide. Just like that, my skin tingles, even with the layers of clothing I’m wearing and my body leans into his like the traitor she is. “My mother is the sweetest woman on this planet who is always there for us. She’s still there for us. And my father has a tough exterior, but he is completely obsessed with my mother and worships the ground she walks on. Growing up, their love for each other made me uncomfortable. It fucking terrified me, because who could actually love someone that much? Be that obsessed with someone to the point that nothing else mattered as long as they had each other? That shit is scary.”

He’s breathing hard and so am I, his words shocking me. Is his parents’ relationship toxic? Are they too reliant on each other? Is that what scares him about love and relationships? Because clearly the man is uncomfortable with the topic.

“I’ve never met someone who made me feel even a little bit like that. I kept the walls up because it was easier. When you grow up with all of your relatives, including your father, telling you that when you know, you fucking know, they make it sound like a curse. I didn’t want to be afflicted.”

“A curse? And afflicted with what?” He makes it sound like he thinks of emotions as a disease.

“Obsession. Love. It doesn’t seem to matter if you’re in my family. They’re one and the same.” He tugs me closer, thrusting his face in mine. “I can’t explain it. I don’t even know you, Sin, and I’m fuckingobsessedwith you. Just like I feared would happen to me, what I’ve been avoiding for years. They warned me my entire life this would happen and here I am, fucking gone over a girl who’s barely legal and fights with me all the goddamned time. Why? Why you? You’re nothing special.”

“Thanks a lot.” I try to jerk out of his hold, but he won’t letme, his fingers tightening around my arm, his body crowding mine. My backpack slips off my shoulder, falling onto the ground with a thud and I glance to my right to see where it landed. But August grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to look at him again and what I see in his eyes is…overwhelming.

Desperation. He even seems traumatized, and I’d guess he’s the sort who doesn’t discuss his feelings. Like ever.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” An exasperated noise leaves him and he shakes his head, closing his eyes for the briefest moment before reopening them. His grip relaxes on my arm and he leans back a little, as if he’s giving me space. “You’re just—you’re an ordinary person, so why can’t I stop thinking about you?”