Then
She had no idea what made Christian say it.
Because sure, yes, she had mentioned Miller’s outburst a few times now.
And true, there had been that weird incident when Miller answered a question on vampires in film in the exact same way she had, five minutes before Miller showed up.
Oh, and the being-forced-to-sit-together thing had probably looked a little weird.
Every time his arm had brushed hers she knew she had blushed.
She suspected he had blushed when she’d pushed her thigh against his.
But those things didn’t mean anything. They were just clumsiness, awkwardness, a byproduct of that strange reaction he’d had to her calling his words phony.
Obviously things were going to be more charged between them after an argument like that.
It didn’t mean she wanted to fuck him, for god’s sake.
Yet that was what Christian had said.
Even her laughing didn’t seem to put him off.
In fact he doubled down. His face sunk into a sullen pout; he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not even talking about you fucking finishing each other’s sentences, or about the sitting together, or any of that,” he sneered. “You should have just heard him at the bar then.”
Though she hadn’t known Miller was even there.
She glanced up as soon as the words were out, searching for some sign of him.
And sure enough, there was that broad back. The usual denim shirt pulled taut over it as he leant tensely over the bar. One boot behind the other. Dark hair tousled like always. No sign at all that anything significant had passed between him and Christian—a fact that Christian bizarrely confirmed.
“He had the fucking nerve to tell me you don’t like Budweiser,” he said.
As if Budweiser meant anything at all.
As if that somehow proved she had a thing for him.
You’re fucking hallucinating, she wanted to say suddenly. But she had a feeling if she did it would come out much more fiercely than she wanted it to. The words were practically burning a hole in her chest. They blazed there, too hot to stand.
She took a drink of the Budweiser he’d fucking bought her anyway.
You should have listened, she found herself thinking.
But that just made it worse. Now her mind was going over and over the idea that Miller had known that.
How had he known that? Had he seen her grimacing at Jessica’s party?
He’d barely come anywhere near her, of course he hadn’t; he was even more furious with her at the moment than usual.
She hadn’t even known why he’d been there.
It didn’t seem possible that he’d noticed anything she did.
But then Christian decided to say more, after a moment of sulky staring.
“He said you like the blue raspberry thing.”
And okay, that was worse, that was way worse.
That made her go all hot and weird.
Because she had never bought that drink in her life.
But she had always wanted to. She’d seen it on the menu and thought it sounded just like the Slush Puppies of her youth, then shied away from getting it when Jessica had rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of frozen cocktails.
If you’re going to drink get something grown-up, she’d said, and Daisy had remembered.
She didn’t want to remember now, however.
She didn’t want to think about whatever had made Miller say that.
“He’s fucking mad,” she said, and laughed again. And it must have been convincing, this time, because it seemed to satisfy Christian. He settled back in his seat, looking smug somehow. Like he’d won something.
The battle of who loves me best, she thought, then wanted to laugh even harder.
There was no way on god’s green earth that Christian did anything like love her, she knew. Though she wondered, after she had chuckled over such a ridiculous notion, why she hadn’t thought it of Miller first.