Page 100 of Pucking Sweet

I step into the far one, noting the dingy, dark walls covered in old posters and flyers for concerts and beach events. Beyond the walls, the house music pumps, something loud and rock’n’roll. I push the door shut, shrieking as it gets blocked by a body. “Lukas—”

He slips in, shutting the door and turning the lock. “Seriously? You sang ‘Jolene’?”

“God, get out. This bathroom is occupied.” I move over to the cracked mirror in the corner. Desperate for something to do with my hands, I start washing them.

“Please tell me you’re not still hung up on that douchey architect who is currently fucking your sister.”

I glare through the mirror at his reflection, taking in his crossed arms, those tattooed biceps bulging in his tight gray T-shirt. “I’m not.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“What?” I slam my palm against the soap dispenser, squirting soap into my hand. “I’m not. I don’t want Anderson. I don’t care about Anderson. I don’t eventhinkabout Anderson. Look, this is me, actively not thinking about him.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Well, Iwasn’tthinking about him until you stormed in here, shoving him in my face. The door is behind you, by the way.”

He leans against it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Suit yourself.” I rinse off the soap under the hot water, squeezing my hands together instead of squeezing his stupid neck.

“If you’re so over it, why were you singing ‘Jolene?’”

“Seriously?” Shutting off the water, I tug paper towels out of the dispenser by his shoulder. “Maybe because Dolly Parton is a literal icon who just happens to be one of my favorite singers? Didn’t sleuth that on my social media, did you? I’ve been singing ‘Jolene’ at karaoke since I was twelve years old!”

“Likely story.”

“Ohmygod, this is so pathetic. I know why you’re really in here.”

His gaze heats as he glares down at me. “And why is that?”

I cross my arms, glaring right back. “You know about me and Colton—”

“Of course I fucking know,” he shouts, crowding my space until I’m backing up against the wall. “The asshole only came and rubbed it in my face the moment he pulled out of you.”

My eyes widen. “He what?”

“Yeah, he came and found me right after the elevator. I could still smell you on his fucking skin.”

I search his face, looking for the lie. “Why would Colton do that?”

“Because he’s a territorial fucking asshole! He was all ‘finders keepers,’ and told me I can’t play the game. But now I’m all twisted up because I think Iwantto play the game. I mean—it’s not a game anymore, and I get that—but I don’t know how tonotplay this like a game, you know? Not when the rules are finders keepers and—”

“What’s finders keepers?”

“It’s you,” he replies. Then he groans, dragging a hand through his short, almond-brown hair. “Or maybe now it’s me. I’m not quite sure about that part. It feels like somewhere it all got twisted around.”

“Lukas, you’re not making any sense. Colton came to you after the elevator?”

“Of course he did,” he snaps.

“And you know we…”

He just rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You think I don’t know the scent of your shampoo?”

I stiffen.

“You think I don’t know the sweet smell of your pussy?”