Page 20 of Resisted
He looked exactly how I felt—like he was just smacked and surprised, then ran over by a fucking semitruck. It took him a moment and a few blinks before responding. “Yeah, you too, Bella.”
She sighed as she looked between us. “So. The burger. Give it.”
She held out her hands, moving her fingers in such a way that she actually thought I would give up my burger. I picked it up. “No can do. This fucker is mine now.” To emphasize my point, I took another bite.
“You think I care that you’ve taken a bite, Vincent? I’ve had way worse things in my mouth than your secondhand germs.” I fucking choked. If Boyce weren’t there to slam his palm against my back, surely I would have died on the spot.
When the lump of bread finally passed down the pipe, I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard just fine.” She grinned.
“I heard you, I just assumed you misspoke.” Because there was absolutely no way that Silas would allow this. What had he done for three fucking years? Let this kid run wild? It seemed fucking likely.
“Does it make you uncomfortable, Vincent? To know I’m not a kid anymore?” ‘Uncomfortable’ was like the understatement of the year. Last I saw her, she was still toting around a backpack. The time before that, I was lighting her fucking dress shirt on fire and watching the flames dance in her infuriated eyes.
“You’ll always be a kid,” I mumbled, though my eyes were definitely seeing otherwise.
She reached for my plate and grabbed my burger, bringing it to her mouth to take a bite. Her face pulled. “Too many onions. You should stick to popcorn.”
“You should stick to finger paints.” I finally dared to look her directly in the eye. “Does Silas know you wear makeup now? I’ll wash that shit off myself.”
“Silas is an asshole who hasn’t visited in years. Where he is anyway?” She looked around, her neck stretched as she sought out her brother.
“He didn’t come.”
Her shoulders deflated, and she looked almost sad. “I don’t get it. It’s not like you live a hundred miles away. You’re twenty minutes down the road.”
I didn’t get it either, and though I wanted to go by the motto that it wasn’t my life, my problem, or any of my fucking business, the truth was, it was. It wasn’t just affecting him, it was hindering all of us.
I wished I knew what to tell her, I really did, but I didn’t know shit about the situation. “I know, kid. I know.”
“I’m not a fucking kid.” Lord, I knew that too. Though I was trying my best to ignore it.
“Language.” I scowled again, though I knew it was pointless. I knew without a doubt that she probably cussed like a sailor now. I knew for a fucking fact that I would like every damn curse that fell from those plump little lips. Fuck. I needed out, like now. Away from this table. Away from this girl.
“It’s just a word.” She sighed before reaching down and picking up a beer.
I froze. “Put that down. What are you doing?”
It was a fact that though alcohol didn’t affect shifters the same way as humans, it still fucking affected them. And Bella, though she had all the fucking curses and the legs that went on for miles, I doubted she weighted more than a buck fifty. That stuff would take her down quick.
“I can drink, you know.” She rolled her eyes. That fucking eye roll made me furious every damn time.
“The fuck you can. Put that shit down.” To punctuate my words, I pointed to the ice chest.
“She’s twenty-one,” Boyce chimed in, like a fucking traitor.
“She most certainly is not.” I still refused to believe it. Toned legs, a glorious chest, and…twenty-one.
She rolled her eyes again. I fucking hated it and wanted more all at the same time, preferably with my cock shoved down her throat. Whoa. I stepped back, repulsed with the inappropriate thoughts that were flying through my head like they had fucking wings.
“You’re ridiculous, Vincent.” As if to drive home whatever point she wanted to make, she twisted the lid off the beer bottle like a fucking pro, then flicked the metal cap into the garbage can to the side of the table. It was both hot and disturbing, and the fact I thought of it that way made my skin crawl.
My head suddenly pounded, and I knew it had nothing to do with an actual physical headache and everything to do with the girl standing in front of me. I needed away, a break, a damn vacation, just because this girl was standing in front of me. I took a step back, trying to put some distance between us, ignoring the fact that the food table was right there. If I put any more distance between us, I’d end up with a bowl of potato salad on my ass and barbeque sauce in my fucking hair.
“I’m going to talk with your mother about this,” I muttered, suddenly mentally and emotionally distracted. I reached my free hand to the back of my neck and attempted to rub away some tension. “Keep the burger.”
I turned back to the table, speared a few sausage links, and tossed them on my plate. Then I walked my ass away as swiftly as possible because I felt stifled, like I couldn’t take another breath with her around, but doing so without her didn’t feel like an option either. She stood there, not moving at my back, and I could feel her eyes on me, feel them searing into my back, but I tried to pretend she had moved on.