Page 23 of The Heart Breaker

He shrugs, the corner of his lips twitching. “I like girls with bite.”

I scoff. “You wouldn’t survive me.”

He chuckles, drumming his fingers once against the back of the chair before he tips his head toward my painting. “That’s cool,” he says. “I’m bored out of my mind, though. Aren’t we supposed to be drawing nudes by now?”

I glance over at him, one eyebrow lifting. “You just want an excuse to draw boobs.”

He shoots me a wink, completely shameless. “Would rather see them.”

I let out a breath through my nose and look back at the page. “Is that your idea of flirting?”

“Want me to switch tactics?” he says, tilting his head. “I could ask if you’re coming to the bar later. I never see you out anymore.”

I used to love going out. Getting dressed up, getting drunk with my friends, laughing too loud, staying out too late. It used to be easy. Fun.

Now, even thinking about walking into a crowded bar makes something in my stomach tighten, because all I can picture is somebody glancing at me and whispering.

And I’m sick of feeling like the entertainment.

So I’ve been staying home instead, which, all things considered, hasn’t been the worst thing in the world. Isabella and Maisie usually end up with their boyfriends anyway, and their boyfriends are almost always around Cole, which is reason enough to keep my ass on the couch.

Plus, I accidentally got invested in a reality show. It’s cheesy, addictive, and completely ridiculous, but there’s something weirdly comforting about watching strangers make terrible decisions on television. Makes me feel almost normal.

I’m saved from having to answer when Professor May finally calls time.

I exhale and start packing up, more grateful than I probably should be for the excuse not to deal with the hopeful look on Jake’s face. I slide my brushes into their case, zip up my bag, shove my sketchbook inside, but he stays right where he is, still sprawled backward in the chair like he’s got nowhere better to be.

“You know,” he says, leaning farther over the backrest as I sling my bag onto my shoulder, “you didn’t actually say no.”

I glance at him and let out a sigh. “Maybe,” I say, adjusting the strap. “That’s the best you’re getting.”

Jake grins and shoots me a wink. “See you tonight.”

He pushes off the chair and heads for the door, already smiling at some girl by the sink before he’s even halfway across the room.

I huff out a laugh and shake my head as I zip up my bag. Jake Harper would flirt with a brick wall if it looked at him long enough, and he’s not even remotely my type.

Still.

Maybe going out tonight won’t be the worst thing in the world.

Especially because my brain won’t shut up about what happened at the club. About his hands on my hips, his quietgroans when I shifted my hips over him. And then the look he gave me in the shop when his hands were on my thighs, like he could see straight through me and every thought I was trying not to have. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of it.

But apparently my brain didn’t get that memo.

I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and head for the door, but my phone buzzes before I make it two steps. I pull it out, expecting maybe Isabella or Maisie, and my stomach drops when I see an unknown number on the screen.

Unknown:

Babe, please unblock me. We can work through this.

I stop walking, staring at the text until I feel my body tense. I scroll up and block that number too.

That makes five.

Five different numbers, all of them from him borrowing his idiot friend’s phone since I blocked his ass the moment I got home.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and pick up my pace.