Adrian grins and Colt steps up to us again. “Not now.” He shakes his head and his blond hair falls in front of his eyes. Colt pushes it back and talks to his friend. “I gotta get the hell out of here. You cool? You leaving? I need to have a talk with the princess.”
He’s going to drive me up the freaking wall. I turn to him. “Stop calling me that!” When I try to take a step, my heel catches on the sidewalk and I fly forward. Colt catches me, that stupid tattooed arm holding me tight. I jerk away.
“Fine,” he says. “The drunk princess and I need to have a talk.”
Adrian starts to laugh and I’m getting seriously pissed off here. “It’s rude to laugh at people.” To Colt. “Are you always an asshole?”
“No. There’s just something about you that brings it out in me.”
I cock my brow at him.
“You’re right. I lied. I’m always an asshole.”
Adrian jumps in. “I hate to break up the foreplay you guys have going on, but I’m out. I’d much rather party at my own house with my own shit. You coming home?” He looks at me. “Alone? Deena texted, but if you want I’ll tell her you’re spoken for now.”
I can tell Adrian’s giving Colt a hard time, and Colt isn’t happy about it. Still… “Who’s Deena? You said you didn’t have a girlfriend!”
Colt rolls his eyes.
That’s it. I’m over this. I don’t need him. I can find someone else. I head toward the front of the house. Colt is right behind me, but I’m trying to ignore him when I realize. “Shit. I don’t have my car. I need to find my…” I’m not really sure I can call Andy my friend yet.
“Come with me. I’m driving you back.”
“I’m pretty sure you just ordered me to do something. You’ll get a whole lot further if you ask.”
Colt shakes his head. He’s got a dimple I notice. It makes him look young… sweet. Too bad I know the truth. But he is a contradiction, this guy—all tattoos, clothes that says he doesn’t give a shit and bad mouth with the boy-next-door face.
“If you want a ride, you need to come with me. If you want to talk about this stupid game you want to play with your ex, you need to come with me. If you don’t, I’m gone. It’s been a bad day, Princess.”
Bad day. Yeah, I can understand that. Not like I plan on sharing that with him though. Another wave of dizziness hits me. “Fine, I’ll go, but it’s because I need a ride back to my dorm. Not that I want to go anywhere with you.”
“Huh. That’s funny. Seems to me you want in my pants—” I cut him a dirty look, but he continues, “Or at least you want people to think you do.”
“No, I want them to think I’m already there. Actually, I want them to think you’re in mine, because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Don’t think you’ll actually get a peek at the goods, because it’s not happening. Now…which way to your car?”
I’m all talk. Inside I’m shrinking, hearing Gregory’s words, but if anyone knows how to play the game, it’s me.
***
It’s never a good idea to drink on an empty stomach. Add in the excitement of a near fight with your ex, only to have your fake boyfriend save the day, and then the quite bumpy ride in his car and your stomach will be done for.
Nausea spreads throughout me. Colt’s silent beside me. It’s so crazy. I’ve never gotten why girls go for those closed off, angry, bad boys. Not that I’m going for him, but I’ve tied myself to him and he’s not my kind of guy. I’ve seen what happens when women let men like Colt into their lives and it doesn’t end well. Good thing I hate him.
Colt hits a hole in the road, head on. I swear it makes something shoot up my stomach and almost come out of my mouth. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
“No,” is all he says.
I’d already given him directions to my dorm, so he pulls up out front and parks. “How’s this going to work, Princess?”
“I can tell you right now it’s not going to work if you don’t stop calling me that. My name is Cheyenne. Use it. Gregory would know I’d hate a name like that.” He ruined my shot at the fairytale. At pretending the girl who lived with Mom wasn’t me.
Colt groans. “Let’s just get this figured out. I need to know what you expect and how much I’m going to get for it.”
I offer him a few hundred dollars, which he agrees to. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for more. We decide how often he needs to be seen with me and the kind of things I expect him to do (public displays of affection only, and some flowers and stuff).
“We don’t want this relationship to go on too long, because I’ll probably go crazy. I’m thinking three weeks and I get to dump you.” I smirk at him.
“You care what people think too much. I couldn’t give a shit who dumps who, and two weeks, tops.”
“Fine,” I grit out. I’m starting to wonder if this is going to be worth it. “And it’s not that I care what people think it’s that…”
“That what? Can’t handle having a smudge on your reputation? Used to be on top of the world in high school and now you realize none of that matters? Can’t handle not having a perfect life? Think you’re too good—”
His words are suddenly too much. I don’t know if it’s how upside down my life feels, the alcohol or what, but I can’t keep my mouth shut. “You don’t know anything about me so stop pretending you do! I’m not perfect and I never have been! I was the typical little girl with the absentee mom who would rather party than take care of me. Then she dropped me off at my aunt and uncle’s one day and never came back. Think what you want about me, but know right now that everything hasn’t been perfect for me. It’s all a big lie!”
My chest starts to tighten. It’s hard to breathe. My head pounds and the dizziness hits again except it’s more than drunk-spins. My fingers do their fisting thing that I can’t stop. Holy shit. I can’t have a panic attack in front of him. Can’t be that weak. Not after what I just verbally vomited at him. Why did I say that?
I push out of the car and slam the door behind me. I hear another door slam, but it’s almost like an echo. Please don’t let him follow me. Please don’t let anyone else come out.
Why can’t I get it together?
“Cheyenne,” he calls after me, but I keep walking. I’m heading toward the street, no clue where I’m going, but I have to get out of here before I lose it.
“Cheyenne. Slow down.”
“Leave me alone,” I manage to say, but keep going. I won’t let him see me like this.
“Fine, I’ll say this while we’re walking then… So what? So what if your mom left you?”
This makes me freeze in my tracks. Suddenly, I don’t care if I can breathe anymore. I whip around to face him. “So what? You really are a prick!” I put my hands against his chest and shove. Hard. “I changed my mind. I’m not doing this with you.”
I hear him mumble a “fuck”, but I don’t care. I’m done playing this game with him. I get two steps away when he speaks again. “My mom’s dying. I see it every fucking day. I watch her wither away more and more knowing pretty soon she’ll be gone.”
I want to move…to keep walking away, but I can’t. It’s like he’s stripped. All the anger and cockiness is gone from his voice replaced by pain.
I can’t make myself turn around to face him, but I still say, “And you deal with it by being an asshole. I deal my way. One isn’t better than the other.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Dealing with it by trying to prove that no one can leave you? That you’ll always move on and that you’re better than them?”