Page 34 of Defying Ella
I tried to push past him, forcing the emotion back and focusing on the pounding between my eyes. Painkillers. Ineeded to find painkillers. He could deal with his loneliness complex alone.
Jared held firm, his bicep bulging to hold me in place. “We’re not done talking.”
A fire relit inside of me. I could only master so much patience, and he had burned through it all days ago.
“Yes, we are. If you want to snap at someone, call your bandmates.” I tried again to get past him. “For fuck’s sake, Jared. Can you stop with the emotional whiplash and let me go?” I dragged a hand through my hair.
His expression hardened. “I’m not telling them, and neither will you.”
“Not telling them what?” My brows furrowed.
“About the guitar.”
“Why not? Doesn’t Ryan know?”
“Of course not,” he muttered, the words harsh, jarring against the fear slackening his face. “I won’t rock the boat.”
“I don’t understand.” The pounding in my head only increased. I rubbed hard at my forehead, closing my eyes to breathe through the pain and his confusing behaviour. “How would practising a second instrument rock the boat?”
Panic filled his voice and he stepped back. “It wouldn’t. Forget I said that.”
Jared paced away from me, shutting down a conversation he’d refused to let me end. No way in hell.
“No, you don’t get to shout at me for an innocent question and then shut it down when you wouldn’t let me.” I caught his arm, turning him to face me. “You can at least explain why that set you off.”
He shook me off, glaring at me yet again. If he’d directed that stare at anyone else, they would have turned tail and run. I envied them, but I knew giving Jared Michaels an inch of ground would be detrimental to my sanity.
“It’s nothing.”
“Liar.”
His jaw shifted as he ground his teeth.
“James sings. Ryan didn’t flip out about it.”
“I’m not James.”
“Yes, I’m clear on that.” I let my gaze rake down his frame. “What the hell does it have to do with you not telling people you’re learning guitar?”
“They don’t need to know.” He backed away from me, his eyes begging me to let it go. “Just leave it be, Ella.”
“Ryan plays the guitar, sings, and writes. Is that a problem for you?” My head tilted to the side, studying him. “Should everyone be a one-trick pony in your world?
His eyes narrowed. “We’re done with this. Don’t push me.”
“Why? So you can keep being a whiny bastard?”
“Leave it alone.”
“I tried,” I shouted at him. Then I winced as daggers pierced my brain. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I continued, “You took my head off instead. So now it’s your turn. Why should I keep your innocuous hobby a secret?”
“Because I don’t want to be a fuck-up, too,” he roared, jolting towards me.
I flinched but my feet cemented themselves to the floor. He stalked towards me, his face set in hard lines while his eyes told a different story.
“I can’t do anything right.” He grimaced, stopping inches from me. I tilted my head back to meet his self-loathing gaze.
Despite all his barbs, I couldn’t help but feel for him. Maybe he’d addled my common sense, but I reached for his cheek. For a moment, he leaned into me and then his expression shuttered, taking the whispers of softness with them.
