Chapter 18 #2
Anna’s face goes nuclear.
She snaps the book shut and launches off the couch so fast, I almost stumble back.
“Do you have a fucking problem with what I’m reading?” she snaps, tucking the book behind her like that’ll somehow erase what just happened.
I grin, slow and easy. “I mean… I have questions.”
She scowls, but a rosy color tints her cheeks. “Well, I don’t have any answers.”
I chuckle, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed, fully enjoying the way she’s absolutely flustered.
“Didn’t take you for the type, Ace,” I muse, eyes twinkling. “I thought you were all about intellectual thrillers and feminist dystopias. But here you are, indulging in some good ol’ fashioned smut.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Oh, I’m sorry—would you rather I read about emotionally constipated rockstars with bad impulse control?”
I laugh, but Anna looks ready to murder me in cold blood.
“Seriously,” I say, still grinning. “A Barbarian King, huh? Didn’t peg you for the type. I mean, you’re terrifyingly smart. And if emotionally constipated men are such a turnoff, why the hell are you drooling over one whose mode of communication is with a battle axe?”
She lifts her chin and quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe I like a man who isn’t afraid to cross swords.”
I choke. Pretty sure there was a double entendre buried in there.
Anna’s demeanor shifts slightly—victorious, almost—as she turns on her heel to head toward the hallway. “Have fun sussing out that one, Price.”
Like hell I’m letting her escape. And you bet I’ll be Googling whatever that meant later.
I follow her, too riled up to let this go. Maybe it’s the post-show adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it’s the fact that I need to find a way to get Anna out from under my skin before I blow up my friendship with Ethan.
“You know, I had a pretty great show tonight,” I say casually, like I’m just making conversation.
Anna keeps walking. “Good for you.”
“I mean, you wouldn’t know. Since you weren’t there.”
She freezes. The tension thickens, coiling between us like a live wire.
Anna turns slowly, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “Oh, poor Joel. Was the crowd of drunk, barely clothed girlies not enough for you? You needed a few hecklers, too?”
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “I just don’t get it, Anna. You could’ve come to the show. Just to see how the new song sounded.”
She scoffs. “What would be the point of that?”
“Because you love music. And maybe you’d see—”
“See what exactly?” She cuts in.
“That I’m—I’m different.” I blurt out, Ethan’s words racing through me.
She actually laughs. A cold, sharp sound. “Oh, you’re different?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
My patience snaps.
“What the fuck do you want from me, Ace?” I take a step closer, heat rising under my skin. “Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness? Do you want me to say I don’t regret anything I did when we were kids? Because I do, Anna. I fucking do. If you’d just open the damn envelope, you’d—”
Her arms tighten around herself, but she holds her ground. “It wouldn’t change anything if I did.”
“It could if you’d let it.”
She flinches, just slightly, but I see it.
She realizes it too, because she turns away like she can physically shut me out.
But I’m done letting her. We’ve been living in this space for a week and I can feel her defenses cracking. Hell, mine have already gone to shit. May as well see if she’ll join me.
She doesn’t want to be angry with me. I can kinda see that now. She just doesn’t know how to let it go. To let me back in.
I step in, crowding her space, voice lower now—rougher.
“Admit it. You don’t hate me,” I murmur.
Anna exhales sharply, dropping her hands to her sides. “Oh my god.”
“You’re just afraid to admit that you don’t.”
She turns back, eyes blazing. “You think you know me that well?”
I nod, not backing down. “I know you better than you think, Ace. Hell, I’d wager that I know you better than just about anyone else.”
She huffs a dry laugh, but I catch the small shiver. The flicker of something akin to fear in her deep brown eyes.
The space between us is razor-thin now, heat crackling between us like an exposed wire.
Her breath hitches, just slightly.
I see the way her gaze flickers, her body locked tight like she’s fighting herself. Fighting me.
She won’t admit it, but she’s thinking about it.
She’s feeling it.
That pull. The same one I’ve been trying to ignore—and failing miserably—since I got back.
Her eyes drop, just for a second, to my mouth, and I stop breathing.
Holy shit.
I could close the space between us.
It would take nothing.
A tilt of my head, a shift forward, and I’d have her. I’d feel her lips on mine, the heat of her skin.
She’d hate herself for it. Hell, maybe she wants a reason to hate me again.
But I can feel the battle in her. The warring between get out of my life and come closer.
Her fingers twitch at her sides, knuckles tight like she’s bracing for impact.
I don’t move.
I let her decide because I refuse to force her.
Then, just when I think she’s about to—
The front door swings open.
“Yo, Anna, you home?”
We snap apart like we’ve been burned.
I take a step back, jaw clenched, while Anna exhales sharply and shakes herself out of it.
Fuck.
I run my hands through my hair and breathe out.
Ethan’s voice is casual, easy—completely oblivious to the fact that I was a breath away from making a very bad decision.
Tessa follows behind him, her gaze flicking between us like she knows something just happened but can’t quite put her finger on it.
Anna recovers faster than I do.
She crosses her arms, her entire stance shifting like she wasn’t just about to kiss me. Like she wasn’t just considering something dangerous.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she says, voice impressively steady. “What’s up?”
Ethan lifts a brow, glancing between us again, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my pulse spike before he shrugs it off.
“Just a heads up—Mom’s gonna call you about Mina’s party bright and early tomorrow.
She’s in full Korean grandmother event planning mode, so brace yourself.
Sounds like the party will be Saturday, so we need to get serious. ”
Tessa laughs it off at the same time Anna groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Great. Can’t wait.”
Tessa shifts, leaning against the doorway, still looking at me like she knows.
Like she feels the shift in the air.
“So, how was the show?” Anna asks, voice overly nonchalant.
Too nonchalant.
She didn’t even call me a name or make a snide remark about it.
Tessa smirks.
Ethan, bless him, launches into the recap, and I use it as an excuse to take a step back. To shake off whatever the hell that moment was because I knew I wanted to get her to admit she doesn’t hate me.
But I sure as shit wasn’t expecting to nearly kiss her.
While Ethan talks about my performance like it’s the most important thing in the world, I walk back to my room and close the door.
Somehow, my show feels like a lifetime ago. Because all I can think about is the way Anna looked at me.
Like she wanted it—wanted me. And I would have given her everything if she had.
And fuck me, I don’t know what to do with that.