Page 26 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
“No reason? Are you crazy?” The smirk he gives me in return goads my temper and at the same time tells me I am giving him just what he wants: a fight. And yet I can’t stop myself. I welcome it. “You called Darcy and told her that I agreed to be roommates with you.”
“And?” He says it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“And?” I screech. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t even think that. How dare you tell her that I was willing to live with you when that’s the farthest thing from my mind?”
“You’ll come around.”
“I’ll what?” Each time I respond, the pitch of my voice rises. Each time he responds, I want to strangle him.
“You heard me,” he says with a shrug as he takes a step forward, prompting me to take one back because right now I despise him with every part of my being.
“You’re an asshole.”
A lightning-quick grin flashes over his lips. “If you want to insult me, Socks, you better think of something better than that, because that’s not an insult when it’s a well-known fact.”
All I can do is shake my head and tell myself this isn’t worth it. There’s no use trying to reason with someone who’s being unreasonable, and he’s taking the cake in that category. Drawing in a fortifying breath, I close my eyes for a moment; it’s probably best for the both of us if I leave right now before things are said that shouldn’t be said.
“Forget I said anything.”
His hand is on my arm the moment I try to step around him. I should have expected it, should have prepped myself for it, but I didn’t. I was too wrapped up in my emotions and my temper to steel my reaction. Biting back the startled yelp I want to emit, I yank my arm back as memories flicker and fade in my mind.
Breathe, Getty. This isn’t home. He isn’t Ethan. It’s okay.
He looks at me, head to the side, eyes narrowed, as he releases my arm, but the question over my reaction is in his eyes. I do the only thing I can, lift my chin up in defiance and show him and myself that I’m not intimidated by him.
“Spill it, Getty. Let’s finish this here and now. Get it over with. Why else are you mad? You want to throw the whole kitchen sink in? There’s one right over there—I can try to yank it out for you, and add it in if you want.” Sarcasm is thick in his voice and yet there is an underlying strain there as well that I can’t quite figure out.
Let’s face it, I can’t figure anything out about him other than one minute he’s nice and the next minute he’s annoying. And that damn cologne of his. It’s just frustrating that it’s everywhere.
“Talk. Get it out,” he taunts as he steps in to me.
I don’t want to go here, don’t want to sound like a whiny woman, like I’m the emotional wreck that I really am, so I reach deep down and make sure my voice is strong and steady when I speak. “The other morning, in my room . . . what was that all about?”
You hurt my feelings. My eyes say it, but my mouth remains silent.
“Ahhh. That,” he says with a purse of his lips and a stoic expression.
“Yeah, that. See? Asshole.”
“That was on me, Getty. Not on you.” He blows out a sigh as he breaks eye contact and moves around the small space. And even though he’s spoken the words, I’m not sure I truly believe them, because in the few seconds since he’s answered me, his posture has changed, just like it did the other day. Defensive. Pensive.
“Look, I’ve lived with one man who had a temper and moods that flicked on and off.” His movement falters from my words and he turns to look at me again. I swear the atmosphere of the room shifts instantly—tension and curiosity thick in the air around us. I know I’m telling him more than I want to, but he has to understand. “I can’t live in that unpredictability again and you just forced me to with that phone call to Darcy.”
“And the other morning I was unpredictable, and that, what . . . ?”
“It pissed me off. Made me feel like I did something wrong when I know I didn’t. So do you mind explaining to me what the hell happened? Why you went from nice to asshole in a split second?”
“I warned you I was moody.” It’s the only explanation he gives, but I don’t buy it.
“And I told you I’ve seen nice. That was a huge glimpse of it. What made you turn into a jerk? Why’d you walk out of the room, Zander?”
“Jesus Christ,” he says as he moves across the room again, hands running through his hair, and teeth chewing his bottom lip. “I walked out because I promised myself I’d come here, straighten out the shit I’ve made a mess of lately until I could right all the wrongs. It’s complicated and all I want is for life to be simple again. Black-and-white.”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
He laughs softly, lines suddenly etched in the set of his mouth as he contemplates his response. “Because you complicate my plan.”
“I do?”
