Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (13 page)

"Just try this once.
 
For me."

It only took a few words to take all of the steam right out of me.
 
"For you?
 
She's that important to you?"
 
I tried hard not to let him see how much that bothered me.
 

"Oh, stop.
 
It's not like that.
 
I honestly believe that you two will be friends.
 
You could
use
some more friends, Scarlett."
 
He said it kindly, and so it hurt all the more.
   

Ouch.
 
He hadn't been trying to be mean, but the pity in his voice was worse to me than just about anything else.
 

And I was furious again, that he didn't see her for who she was.
 
For God's sake, she'd just spied on us having sex.
 
Twice.
 
And still he thought she was some innocent girl who wanted to be
my
friend.

I knew very damn well that Tiffany wanted nothing so much as for me to disappear forever.
 
I
knew
it.
 
In my gut.
 
In that bitter little spot where instinct and hunches go to
flourish
.

Still, in this instance, my instincts did not seem to be enough for the both of us.
 
I'd let him see for himself.
 
"Fine," I gritted out.
 
"What time?"
 

"The movie's at one thirty."
 

I tried not to grit my teeth when I realized he'd already planned the whole thing.
 
With her.
 

I was about to lose my temper, but I held on to the very last thread of it as I spoke.
 
"Fine," I said again, cursing him in a thousand different ways in my head.
 
"I'll meet you there."
         

His brows drew together.
 
"No.
 
I'll take you, of course.
 
What are you even thinking?"
 

"I'd like to be alone for a while," I said, trying to be reasonable when I wanted to scream at him.
 
"I'll meet you there," I repeated.

"No," he repeated, making every thought about being reasonable fly right out of my head.
 
"I'm not leaving you here," he said firmly.
 
"Are you
kidding
me?"
 

"Glenda's passed out cold.
 
It'd take a miracle to wake her up before four p.m.
 
And besides that, I'm planning to lock myself in my room and read.
 
If she gets up before I leave, I'll climb out the window.
 
You don't need to worry about me."
 

He stood, the look on his face telling me that he was finally beginning to comprehend how badly he'd messed up.
 
My last sentence had clued him in.
 
"Don't.
 
Scarlett,
stop
.
 
I'll cancel, okay?
 
Let's go to Gram's.
 
I'm not leaving you here."
 

I raised my chin.
 
"You are.
 
Go.
 
I'll meet you and
Tiffany
at the movies."
 

He started cursing, and I left him to it, locking myself in my room.
 

"How will you even get there?" he eventually asked me, voice muffled through the thin wall that separated us.
 
He'd been standing there for a while.
 
I pictured him clearly on the other side of it, eyes closed, leaning forehead first into the door.
 

I hated that question, hated that I didn't even have a way to get around, that I was
so
dependent on him, and had never even given it a thought until now, because we did
everything
together.

"Like I said, you don't need to worry about me," I told him with stilted bitterness.
 
"I can figure out how to get to the movie theater without your help, Dante."
 

I just hadn't done it quite yet.
 
I'd gotten my license, but I sure as hell didn't have a car.
 
Could I borrow my grandma's and have it back before she woke up? I wondered.

She'd kill me, I decided instantly.
 
She was absolutely possessive about her junker of a car.
 
She'd only ever let me be a passenger in it maybe five times, let alone drive it myself.
 
The thought was laughable.
 

Still, I wasn't backing down.
 
I was too far gone.
 
My temper was officially running the show.
   

Dante made a noise of utter frustration.
 
"You know what?
 
Fine.
 
I'll be back to pick you up at one."
 

I wanted to punch the door.
 
My fists were clenched in preparation for it.
 
"Don't.
 
I won't even be here by then.
 
Like I said, I'll meet you there."
 
My mouth was working independently of my brain, it seemed.
 
I felt separate from the words, like they had more meaning for him than me.

This made sense, I supposed, because half of what I was saying was for effect alone.
 
I really had no way to make it the thirty-minute drive to the movie theatre.
 

Eventually he left, and though I'd told him too, that did not help my temper at all.
 

It got worse the more I tried to calm it.
 
Simmered hotter the more I tried to turn it off.
 

It was unfortunate that Reese McCoy just happened to call my house right when I'd nearly talked myself out of going at all.
 

Reese had been persistently pestering me for at least a year.
 
I'd never encouraged him in any way whatsoever, but I knew he had a crush on me.
 
He was a nuisance, but at least he was nice to me, which was more than I could say for most people.
 

"I told you not to call me again," I told him right away.
 
It came out naturally.
 
"I'll tell Dante that you're bothering me if you don't stop."
 
I'd told him this at least a dozen times, but I'd yet to actually follow through.
 
Dante would
pulverize
him, and I didn't truly believe that he was anything but harmless.
 

But then Reese, in his timid voice, said, "I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out, or whatever.
 
We could, like, go to the mall, or whatever."
 

It was ridiculous of him to ask, but no one could fault his timing.
 
On any other day, I'd have skewered him for asking.
 

But today, well, I really needed a ride.
 
"Do you have a car?" I asked him.
 

I swear I felt him smile through the phone.
 

"Do you know Tiffany Vanderkamp?" I asked Reese when he picked me up in his old Toyota truck.
 

"That rich, new girl?
 
Yeah, I've seen her.
 
Doesn't she live close to here?"

Too close,
I thought.
 
"She does.
 
Do you like her?"
 

He was driving by then, but he looked away from the road to shoot me a guarded look.
 
"She's alright.
 
Why?"
 

"She's going to be at the movies.
 
Maybe you could take her out afterwards."
 

He chewed on his lip for a long while, finally getting up the courage to say, "I'd rather take
you
out afterwards."

I rolled my eyes.
 
"You know I'm with Dante."
 

"Not right now you aren't.
 
Right now you're in my truck, if you didn't notice."
 

That shut me up.
 
I'd just gotten into a car with a guy I barely knew just to piss off Dante.
 
I was helpless, and I'd done it to myself.
 
The thought was sobering.
   

Luckily Reese didn't pull anything, taking me straight to the movies, like I'd asked, unaware that I was bringing him on a double date whether he liked it or not.

Or a trap, depending on how you looked at it.
 

But I wouldn't be letting him drive me home.
 
Something in his tone had me worried.
 
He was definitely less of a pushover than I'd always assumed.
 

Dante's reaction was predictably gratifying when I walked in the door with Reese.
 

He wouldn't even look at me.
 
His cold eyes were on Reese.
 
"Let's take this outside."

Tiffany, who'd been standing next to him, watched the guys leave, looking troubled.

"I tried to bring you a date," I told her.
 
"I guess it didn't work out."
 

She studied me.
 
"I don't mind being a third wheel."
 

I smiled at her and it was smug.
 
One thing I could guarantee; Dante would stop setting her up to be my 'friend' now.
 
"I mind.
 
One thing I also mind is you watching us having sex.
 
Do you even know how sad and pathetic that is?
 
How desperate?"
 

Her nostrils flared.
 
I'd finally found a crack in her fake pleasant facade.
 
Good.
 
I'd been looking for a while now.
 

"What can I say?" As she spoke, her voice changed, her entire demeanor did.
 
It was fascinating and reminded me, like a lightbulb going on, of his mother.
 
"He is awfully nice to look at, even if you did keep getting in the way of my view."
 

"Like I said, pathetic," I said in disgust, though deep down what I felt the most deeply was satisfaction.
 
Finally
she was showing her true colors.
 
"Look your fill, but that's all you'll ever get."
 

"You really think that," she said slowly, tasting the words.
 
"You're confident, I'll give you that.
 
You're wild in bed, sure.
 
But you're also a manipulative bitch.
 
How long do you think that will keep him entertained?
 
How long do you think it'll take him to realize he could do better?"

I really hated that her words made me ask myself that same question.
 

It was spooky how much it felt like I was speaking to his mother.
 
Every nuance of her words was crafted in the same way.
 
She had that precise, killer, imminent threat to every syllable of her speech.
 
And
exactly
like Adelaide, she had a talent for pointing out an insecurity you didn't even know you had.
 

She
created
insecurities.

Just like with his mother, I held that against her.
 
By this point, I had a whole list.

"And when he does, I'll be right here," she continued.
 
"I'm not going anywhere, and I'm very patient."

"He doesn't even think you're interested in him," I told her with incredulous hostility, though I wasn't sure who that was aimed at.
 
Dante, most likely.
 
The blind fool.
 

Yeah, okay, it was definitely aimed at him.

"Good," she said, the word filled with warm satisfaction.
 
"I don't want him to.
 
He'll come to me when he's ready.
 
Just you watch."

I almost punched her, but I managed to maintain my composure enough to just walk away.
 

Dante came back inside sooner than I'd have thought possible, and looking mad enough to breathe fire, he strode right to me.
 
"Okay," he gritted out.
 
"Message received.
 
We'll stay away from Tiffany, so long as you
promise me
you'll stay away from Reese McCoy."

"I promise," I told him solemnly, feeling like I'd finally,
at last,
been heard.
 

Sometimes drastic measures pay off.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he said, snagging my hand.
 

I smiled at Tiffany while he made our excuses, turning my head to hold her glaring gaze with delight as he wrapped a solicitous arm around my waist and pulled me outside.
 

I felt I'd won, because back then I didn't know it was more than a battle; it was a war.
   

It was sometime later, deep into the night, before I brought it up again.
 

Dante was in a much, much better mood by then.
 
We were in the backseat of his Audi, parked deep in the woods, several miles from his house.
 
He was on top of me, catching his breath, kissing my temple every so often, his big, firm, edible chest right in my face.

I wriggled underneath him, and it made him groan.
 
He was still inside of me.
 
"I need to get home," I told him.
 

"No," he said as he pulled out.
 
"Not happening.
 
I'm keeping you."