“Oh fine.” Hunter starts to leave, but then he pauses, grinning at Zay from over his shoulder. “Just because I’m doing what you told me to do doesn’t mean I’m actually letting you boss me around. I’m just trying to clear my head before things get too out of hand.” He sneaks an almost worried look in my direction then walks out of the room.
“Jesus fucking Christ, he’s so annoying sometimes,” Zay mumbles, sinking down onto the edge of the pool table and massaging his temples with his fingertips.
“And you aren’t?” I question.
He lifts his gaze, giving me a dirty look. “I’m not annoying. I’m just complicated.”
“Maybe Hunter is, too,” I suggest.
“Are you defending him?” he questions with a cock of his brow.
Am I? “I don’t know … Kind of … Maybe.”
“Why?” he asks skeptically.
“I don’t know … I guess because, out of all of you, he’s been the nicest to me. And he seems easygoing. Well, when he’s not helping you and Jax threaten me.”
“Hunter is easygoing. He’s also fucked almost every chick in our school. Then, after he does, he ditches them.”
I remember what Katy told me. “So I’ve heard.”
His brow quirks as he crosses his lean arms. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Should it?”
“Depends on why you seem to like him?”
“I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“I’m asking if you want to fuck him,” he states bluntly. “Because, if you’re going to be in our circle, you can’t fuck any of us.”
“Don’t you think, if I wanted to fuck him or any of you guys, I would’ve taken you guys’ other option back at the bridge?” I tell him, self-consciously wrapping my arms around myself as memories of falling off the bridge flash through my mind.
I just gave up.
He drums his fingers against the side of the pool table. “Maybe. But maybe you just want to fuck Hunter. Who the hell knows? You seem like a really confusing girl.”
“I am, but I don’t want to have sex with any of you.” It’s the truth, too.
Sure, they’re all hot, but I’ve barely kissed anyone, so screwing seems a little far out of my reach right now.
His gaze dissects me. Or tries to. Doubtful he can actually see the real me, especially since I can’t really see her anymore.
“You never did mention who was running their mouth about us to you,” he says.
Strands of my hair fall into my eyes as I shake my head. “I’m not going to rat out this person so you can haul them to the bridge and scare the crap out of them.”
He pushes away from the table, his boots scuffing the hardwood floor as he takes a step toward me. “Being in this circle means telling each other stuff.”
“But I still haven’t said I want to be in your circle,” I remind him, holding my ground.
He inches closer, his gaze piercing into me. “You will once you realize it’s better than being out there alone.”
I scratch my wrist and adjust my leather bands, making sure the scars he still hasn’t seen yet remain hidden. “Alone is what I know.”
He’s thrown off a bit, missing a beat, but he quickly recovers then moves even closer to me. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. I mean, I understand that sometimes it can seem easier to be alone, but the truth is, it’s really not.”
I tip my head back to meet his gaze. “Are you speaking from experience?”
He smirks. “Maybe one day you’ll find out … if you become one of us. But I rarely tell outsiders shit about me. If I did, then they could use it against me. And I don’t need anyone having anything they can use against me. It’s too dangerous.”
I wonder how he’d feel if he knew what Hunter told me about him. Not that I’m going to tell him and rat Hunter out.
“Why’s it dangerous?” I ask.
He just stares at me instead of replying.
“Right,” I say. “I have to join your circle before you start telling me stuff.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Finally, you’re catching on.”
“I guess so. But I still have a ton of questions before I even consider joining you guys’ weird-ass circle that seems an awful lot like a gang.”
“I’m sure you do, but not all of them are going to get answered,” he replies as he digs out his phone then glances at the screen.
“Some have to be answered first … I mean …” I try to figure out where to start. “Is this a gang?”
His gaze elevates to me. “If I said yes, would it be a deal breaker?”
“I don’t know …” I chew on my bottom lip. “Are you guys killers?”
His barely-there smile sends a chill down my spine. “If we were, it’d be stupid to ask me that.”
“Why? You asked me if I was one.”
“Yeah, but I’m fairly sure you’re not.”
“And I already told you that you’re wrong.” I rub my hands up and down my arms as a coldness settles over me.
“Are you saying that because you really can remember what happened that day?” He observes me with curiosity. “Or are you just buying into what everyone’s been whispering about you?”
“How do you know I can’t remember …?” I trail off, frowning. “Right. You read my therapy file.” My frown deepens at how much he really knows about me. “Don’t you think it seems fair that I get to read yours then?”
He grins coldly. “Who says I have one?”
“Don’t you?” I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m betting I’m right. Just like I’m betting he’s been to therapy for anger management issues.
He rolls his tongue in his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”
“What’s it for?” I wonder. When he makes no effort to respond, I elevate my brows. “Come on, Zay.” I mock. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”
“I never said that. What I said is that I want people to be scared of me, which means keeping my secrets to myself.” Then he crowds my personal space, dipping his lips toward my ear. “I’ll tell you what, though,” he whispers. “If you tell me what really happened with your parents—and I mean all the gory details—I’ll give you my therapy file.”
I fight back a shiver as I imagine what it would be like to talk about my parents’ deaths aloud. I’ve only ever done it with a therapist. It was part of the deal that was struck when I was released from the psychiatric hospital.
“Just like that?” My tone comes out even, despite the goosebumps dotting my arms.
“Just like that.” He slants back and waits for me to answer.
And man, do I want to agree to this deal. Not only over my inquisitiveness to find out more about him, but to have ammunition against him if he decides to pull another stunt like the bridge. But the idea of confessing that dark day—and I mean all the details I’ve never told anyone—makes my stomach churn.
I shake my head then pat his shoulder. “Nah, I’m good with the whole I’ll-keep-my-secrets-and-you-keep-yours thing.”
He glances at the spot on his arm where I touched him then back at me and a muscle in his jaw pulsates. “We’ll see about that.”
“Oh really? Is that a challenge?”
Surprise flickers in his eyes. It seems to be a reoccurring thing when I talk to him.
“If it is, you better be afraid,” he warns ominously. “I never lose a challenge.”
“I think I’ve already made it pretty clear that I’m not afraid of you, Zay.”
“Bullshit. You were completely afraid of me at the bridge.”
“I was mildly alarmed for a little bit, but then you jumped in that river to save me, so your scary factor went down a freakin’ ton.” As I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the scent of the river water engulfs my nostrils.
God, I stink. I need a shower.
“Yeah, I did save your life,” he agrees. “And you never even thanked me for it.”
I roll my eyes. “You kind of owed me that since you’re the reason I was in the river at all.”
He shakes his head. “Do we really have to go over this again? We were never actually going to make you jump.”
I’m actually starting to believe him, but still … “I’ll thank you for saving me when you apologize for making me think I had to jump.”
He stares me down hard. “I don’t apologize for anything.”
“And I rarely say thank you.”
He inches toward me until the tips of his boots graze my bare feet. “You’re driving me crazy. You know that? I jump into a fucking freezing river and drag your ass out. Then I go back in to get your jacket because you wouldn’t stop whining about it. And I let you use my body heat.” He leans in until only a sliver of space is between our faces. “Do you understand how big of a deal that was for me?”
“No, because I don’t know you.” My heart is beating very hard inside my chest, but I can’t quite figure out why. Am I scared of him? No, I don’t think so. And what about what he just said? “You went back and got my jacket?” I ask, my heart tightening in my chest in a way I never felt before.
“Yeah, but only because you wouldn’t shut up about it.” He gives a short, considering pause. “Why’s it so important to you?”
I feel very strange inside, like kind of warm and gooey. “It was my mom’s. It’s pretty much the only thing I have left that belonged to her.”
“Oh.” Sympathy briefly reflects from his eyes. “I guess I’m glad I went back and got it for you then.”
The warm feeling stirring inside me is making me feel all squirrely. “Why’s that?” I ask distractedly.