Page 90 of Sugar

“You’re embarrassed by me.”

He staggered back like I’d pushed him. At the incredulous look twisting his handsome face, I was tempted to. It was insulting after everything I’d sat through. “What the hell are you talking about?”

That was already more than I intended to say, so I kept the rest disconnected and brief. At least, that was what I meant to do. Instead, it came out in a breathless ramble. “You hover and answer for me and wouldn’t even leave me alone to go to the bar and then you lied about what I do because you don’t want anyone to know I’m just some college student.”

As soon as the final word left my mouth, I wanted to rewind time and swallow them back down. Mortification swirled with devastation because I knew I’d just made a colossal mistake. One that signified the beginning of the end before I’d even gotten to enjoy being Easton’s sugar baby for more than a few hours.

I scrambled to backtrack and form a defense for my unfortunate emotions. “Which is fine. That’s not what this is.”

“The fuck it isn’t.”

I continued talking over him. “But I don’t enjoy being made to feel like your dirty secret. The specifics of me or ourarrangement are our business, and we don’t have to broadcast my age or life. I just would’ve appreciated a heads-up that you wanted to keep those details?—”

“Hey!” he shouted down the hall, earning curious looks from everyone in the lobby. Someone even stuck their head in from the other room to see what the ruckus was. “This is Maddie. She’s omphh callllempge scmuuufffeeent.”

His words came out muffled under my palm as I tried to hush him. “What’re you doing?” I hissed.

He jerked his head to shake me off, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and yanked him down.

Great, we went from making a scene with his yelling to making one because we look like we’re about to go at it.

“What’re you doing?” I repeated.

“Telling everyone you’re a college student. Something I’m sure as shit not embarrassed about. And it’s not exactly groundbreaking. No one in there is under the misconception that we’re close in age. Based on the envious way they stare, they’re wondering how an old fucker like me got someone like you.”

“You’re not an old fucker,” I whispered.

“I am. Just like I’m far too old for you. But you’re not too young for me.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No.” He didn’t explain before moving on. “The only person I didn’t want to know those details about you is Jerry.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

There was a pointedness in his stare and his silence that I wasn’t understanding. Not until he asked, “Do you not know who that was?”

I bristled at his tone. “No, and there’s no reason to be a condescending jerk that I’m not as well-informed?—”

“Whoa, hey. It’s not like that. Anyone who thinks you’re not well-informed has never talked to you or read one of your articles. I just assumed that your standoffishness when Jerry showed up was because you recognized him.”

“It was because he gave me the creeps.”

“Good instincts.”

I focused on the more important thing he said. Okay, not actually more important, but it certainly was to me. “You’ve read some of my articles?”

“No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed.

I landed on some odd and unsettling mix of both.

Right up until he admitted, “I’ve read all of them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” A smile curved his mouth, small but genuine. “They’re good, guppy. You’ve got a gift, but more than that, you clearly work hard at it.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, blushing in a different way. I gave myself an internal shake—and a few mental face slaps—to clear my head. “Okay, so who’s Jerry?”