“Dude, what the fuck?” he shouted but then his face crinkled and he took a step back. “Hey, aren’t you Ben Lancaster?”

I shoved past him without answering. The exit led to a stairwell but it was empty and as the door swung closed behind us the noise was easier to take.

“Jesus, Ben, are you mad about something?” Georgia asked, yanking her hand from mine.

I ran my hands through my hair and rotated my shoulders. Hell the fuck yes. Hell the fuck no.

Shit.

“No,” I said carefully. “I…”

Her eyes glistened and she licked her lips, tugging on a long curl. She was nervous. Anxious. And I felt like the biggest loser on the planet because it was her birthday for Christ sake and I’d managed to ruin it.

I groaned and blew out a long breath. How had the day ended up here? I’d woken up with her beside me and after I’d made sweet love to her, we’d spent the day in the pool. We’d talked about music, movies, books and art. We talked about a lot of shit but none of it really mattered, because none of it was about her.

And that’s what was bugging me—it’s what had bugged me all along—I just didn’t know it until now.

I didn’t know the real Georgia and it frustrated the hell out of me because I saw glimpses of her when she wasn’t trying so hard to hide herself, and I wanted more. I wanted to know about the girl who painted those freaky weird ass paintings. I wanted to know about the girl who separated her peas from everything else on her plate and ate them last. The girl who crinkled her nose when she was thinking too hard. I wanted to know…

“You and guitar guy didn’t just date casually.” It wasn’t a question and she knew it.

For the longest time Georgia said nothing and as each second ticked by my anger grew. It erupted like a balloon inside my chest and my teeth were clenched together so tightly that my jaw ached.

“I’ve known Travis for a long time.”

It wasn’t rational, the way I was feeling. On some level I knew that but I couldn’t help myself. It was there. Some big fucking elephant stood between us and I had no idea what it was. I had no idea because Georgia wouldn’t tell me.

“So you fucked him.”

Her eyebrows shot up at my crude words and I felt like an absolute shit at the hurt in her eyes. But the feeling passed because the anger overshadowed it. The anger inside me fueled by the Jack I’d inhaled in the bar was becoming as big and nasty as the invisible elephant.

“Are we doing that now?” she said. “Are we really going to discuss all the guys I’ve fucked?”

“So there’s been a lot?” I shot back with a snarl.

Her mouth opened in shock but I didn’t back down. I wanted something more from her. And though I didn’t particularly care to hear the details of every hook up she’d ever had she wasn’t giving me anything else.

“What the hell is happening? Why are you being like this?” she said, taking a step toward me. Her eyes were all shiny as if she was going to cry. “Can’t we just leave, Ben? Go back to your place and—”

“And fuck? Because that’s all we do, Georgia.” I took the remaining step until we were so close I could see the sparkles in her eye shadow. Until I could see the thin sheen of sweat along her forehead and smell that sweet summery scent that drove me crazy.

“We fuck and we eat and we sleep. Then you go out to the barn and paint. You paint weird fucked up faces that mean something, but I don’t know what that something is because you won’t tell me anything about yourself. The only thing you’ve told me is that your mother was fucking crazy and drove herself off a bridge.”

She gasped. I didn’t care. I was beyond caring about anything except my frustration.

My voice echoed down the stairwell and for the next few seconds it was followed by the sounds of the heavy breaths that fell from both of us.

A single solitary tear edged its way down Georgia’s face. Shit. I had done that. I had made her cry. The anger in me was gone as suddenly as it came but when I reached for her she flinched and moved back.

“You want to know the real me, Ben?” She held out her arms and shrugged. “Here I am. Georgia King. College drop out. Party girl. Addict. Mentally defective.” Her eyes flashed. “You want to know about my hookups? About all the guys I’ve screwed?”




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