Page 72 of Like You Want It

“Like what?” I interject, knowing where she’s going with this but maybe hoping to steer her off course.

She scoffs, then motions to her barely covered body. “Like you want to lick me from head to toe.”

I say nothing, because it’s totally true.

“I don’t know how you can look at me like you want to devour me, but make it seem like you’re not interested. All day, you’ve mostly ignored me, only spoken a few words to me, and you can barely look me in the eyes. I just… don’t understand, especially after last night.”

“I knew you were upset.” I point a finger at her. “You’re the one who told me to leave.”

Her chin angles down and her eyes narrow. “I asked you to stay and you said no. It’s only logical that the next step is for me to ask you to leave.”

“We both know you were upset.”

“Oh, you mean when you wanted to bolt after we hooked up, I was upset? Not a big surprise.”

“You told me to leave.”

“Afteryou said you didn’t want to stay,” she grits out.

We stand there, glaring at each other. But if I’m honest with myself, I know I have no leg to stand on.

“Look, Mr. Never-Has-Anything-To-Say.I’mthe talker. The one who is always willing to work things out with conversation.Youare the one who glares at me all the time like I murdered your pet rabbit as a child.Youare the one who acts like I’m a fucking parasite whenever I’m around.” I wince. “Andyouare the one who can barely string a sentence together when it comes time to have a conversation. So don’t start lecturing me about how I handled things. I was in preservation mode after facing your relentless brooding and inability to actually talk to me.”

I cross my arms, though I can feel myself wavering. “I don’t brood.”

“That’s what you’re deciding to focus on? One tiny word used to describe the fact that you’reincapableof having a conversation? Is this some sort of military technique I’ve never heard of?”

I let out a huge sigh and rest my hands on my hips. I don’t know what to say to her. Because there’s a part of me, small but very real, that agrees with her. That knows what I’m doing is stupid and bound to fail. That resisting her is pointless when everything inside of me wants to give in.

When I stay silent, she places her palms flat on her face and mushes her cheeks, growling slightly.

It makes me laugh, which I know isn’t the right thing to do. But I can’t help it. Normally I can, but I feel too raw right now. My body is humming with desire and I… ugh, she’s right there and I just…

“Why is it so hard for you to be around me?” she whispers.

And it splits something open inside of me. Because I know that even though she’s directing this at me, it isn’t just me that makes her feel this way.

I’ve listened to her comments to Susie, heard what she said earlier in the pool about her family thinking she’s… not enough.

I sigh, rub my chin with my hands. “It’s not hard to be around you.”

Her brow furrows. “Then why do you always treat me like you do? Like everything I do is...” and then, to my complete mortification, her eyes start to well up.

“Carly,” I say, stepping towards her. I shake my head. “You’re amazing. You’re smart and kind and funny and a great friend to my sister.” I place a hand on the side of her neck, stroke my thumb along the side of her jaw and stare into those glassy blues that are worse for my chest than stray bullets. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. And I’ll try not to do things that make you feel that way. But you and me… it just isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” she asks. “You’re allowed to want me. Regardless of what you’ve convinced yourself of, or what has happened in the past. You’re allowed to want something to happen. To act on how you feel.” She pauses. “You don’t have to be so angry.”

I grit my teeth, because anything I say right now? It’s just going to spur her on in this quest she seems to have of making me give in to her. To want her.

If only she knew she didn’t have to do anything for that to be true.

She turns her face into my hand, and at the same time, reaches out slowly and traces one finger down my arm from the middle of my bicep to my wrist, following the line of one of my tattoos.

I feel it like a shot of electricity through the very heart of me.

Then she looks up at me, her eyes clear of tears, now filled with a bit of fear, but also brimming with desire.

“Whatever you’re angry about,” she says, her voice a whisper, “take it out on me.”