Page 61
I pull the sheet around myself. I’m beginning to feel like an idiot for thinking anything might have changed.
“You seemed pretty sure of yourself a few minutes ago.”
“I know.”
He looks toward the door, then back at me.
“I think we should sleep in our own rooms tonight.”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry, Soph.”
He looks at me, and for a second, I almost think he might come back to the bed. That he might lie down beside me and put his arms around me and tell me it’s going to be okay, that we’ll figure it out together.
Instead, he says, “Why don’t we talk in the morning?”
“What’s left to talk about?”
He has no answer for that, either.
“I’m sorry.” The words come out hollow. “Get some sleep, Soph.”
And then he’s gone, carrying his pants in his arms as he closes the door behind him, and I’m alone in my bed.
Whatever just happened, it didn’t fix anything.
It just made everything worse.
Seventeen
DECEMBER 29
Sophie
When I tell Vince that I’m going out with Tyler, his expression cycles through surprise, annoyance, then dismay. His mouth tightens, and then he exhales—knowing full well, I suppose, that he can’t say a thing about it.
“And what will you guys be doing?”
“Going to a party.”
“Hm.” I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind, weighing what he can and can’t say. The fact that he hates it warring with his guilt about Camille. About what happened after.
I wonder if he’s remembering the last time he saw Tyler, too, with a mix of vindictiveness and heat. Me on the bed on my knees, Tyler’s cock in my mouth. At the time it had been humiliating, but looking back on it, the idea of Vince seeing me in a sexually compromising situation is more arousing.
“Is Tyler driving?” he asks, his face still a carefully neutral mask.
“Yeah. He’s picking me up.”
“There better not be any drinking.”
“Vince.” I roll my eyes in exasperation. How can this man fold me in two and fuck me senseless one day, and then treat me like a child the next?
“I’m concerned about your safety.” He arches an eyebrow, having found his footing. The concerned parent. “I’m just asking you to be careful, Sophie.”
“Can’t make any promises,” I say, shrugging, deliberately trying to infuriate him. There’s a stiffening of his posture, like he’s ready to argue, and then he relents.
The truth is, I enjoy watching him struggle with this one. After making me sit through dinner with Camille, he can hardly complain about me going out with Tyler and he knows it. I’m almost tempted to ask if he wants to come along and be a third wheel on my date.
