Free Before & After by Nazarea Andrews Page A

says sharply. "You fucking
took my roommate home last night. How the hell do you expect me to overlook
that?"
    "I
didn't know Peyton was your roommate," I say softly."
    Her
eyes go impossibly wide. "Is that really what you're worried about right
now?"
    "I
think it is," I say slowly, deliberately, weighing my words. My gaze
flicks over her face. "I think it's the issue. I know all the reasons we
shouldn’t work. I'm not good for you. I have a shit ton of baggage. I deal with
shit by avoiding it, or picking a fight. By taking another girl home to fuck.
Those are all the reasons we shouldn't work. But that's not the reason we'll
fall apart."
    "No?"
she says sarcastically and I shake my head, leaning back. I'm mirroring her,
and it pisses her off--her arms drop almost defiantly to the table top.
    "It
won't work because you refuse to trust me. You won't tell me a goddamn thing
about you. You don't mind seeing my world—"
    "What,
a shitty bar and a record store? A tattoo shop? That's the only part of your
world that you'll show me."
    "That's
the only part of my world that matters," I almost shout. "That's what
I give a fuck about. So you can think it's shit. I
don't give a fuck. But that's the reality of my world. A dirty bar, a shitty
record store and a rundown tattoo shop. A best friend who doesn't know what the
fuck boundaries are. That's what's important to me. The question is if you can
deal with it."
    "What
the hell makes you think I can't?" she growls.
    "Because
you bolt every time things start to get serious." I shoot back. "You
like the danger of it. You like me finger fucking you on the stage, you like
that I'm not like all the other frat boys you play with. But you won't be
honest with me for five fucking minutes."
    She's
pale and almost shaking in her side of the booth, her fingers white-knuckled as
they clench around her glass of unsweet tea. "I'm honest," she
whispers. "I’ve never lied to you."
    I
shrug. "There's a helluva difference between
lying and not telling the truth. What is it about me that you want but can't
stand to get close to? Because that shit won't work for me."
    “I'm
not the one who took another dude home. You took my roommate home and fucked
her and you’re making it seem like I'm the one who fucked up."
    "You
don't trust me. So arguing with you about what happened isn't worth it."
    I
lean across the table and grab half her sandwich. She's staring at me and her
eyes are furious. I sigh. "I didn't touch her. You can ask her and Scott
if you don't believe me. Or you can tell me to fuck off and we can both cut our
losses. Kinda wonder if that's not a good
option."
    "How
can you say that?" she asks, hurt crossing her face, scrunching her brow
and shadowing her blue eyes.
    I
shrug. "I know why this shouldn't work. I knew before I ever walked up to
you in Barrie’s. But I don't give a fuck. I'm falling for you. And I want to
think you’re falling for me. But you can't even tell me why you're in my bar or
what the hell it is you do on that fucking computer. I find out after three
weeks that the girl I fucked two months ago is your roommate. I can't do this.
I can't fall for you if you're going to pull away from me and keep secrets.
Because I won't be able to put up with them forever and eventually, I'll want
to know some shit you aren't willing to share. And by then, I'll be in too deep."
I look at her, and shrug. Smile a tiny little smile. "If this thing
doesn't work, I'd rather it fall apart now."
    I
slip out of the booth. She's still staring at me, her eyes wide and terrified.
Why the hell does she look so scared? I shove that thought aside. It doesn't
matter. Even if I asked, she wouldn't tell me. She doesn't tell me anything.
    “You
almost cheated on me. You tried to cheat on me. How the actual fuck did this
become about me?” She demands.
    “Because
the only reason I went to her is because of the secrets. I fucked up, even
thinking about it. But this isn’t all on me.”
    I
lean forward,