Page 13 of Hell or High Water
Ramsey wasn’t cruel; he’d learned early, so early he couldn’t even tell you when, that you caught so many more flies with honey than with vinegar. But he found himself saying, “I was going to leave anyway.”
He’d never made a secret of it, but no doubt Nate had expected he’d get a chance to change his mind. And maybe if Nate hadn’t been Nate Bishop, he’d have gotten it. Maybe he’d have evenconjured a miracle and convinced Ramsey to give him his phone number.
But that wasn’t happening now. The best Ramsey could hope for was that the next time they met—because with Wes in both of their circles it was probably inevitable—they could both pretend casual ignorance.
“I know you said it—” Nate started to say hesitantly.
“I never made any secret of it,” Ramsey retorted. He left the kitchen, going into the bedroom to grab his T-shirt. Find his shoes and socks.
But then the sex had been likethat. And when normally Ramsey might have extricated himself from the situation—grabbed a quick shower alone and then left—he’d stayed. He’d agreed to a drink. Would have maybe even acquiesced to a cuddle, a second round, maybe even a sleepover.
Nate trailed after him. Clearly not getting the memo that everything had changed.
“No, but I thought . . .” Nate looked at him, all wounded dark eyes, and Ramsey wanted to yell at him.
Something he never did because what was the fucking point of losing his temper? It never changed anything. Hadn’t changed his shitty childhood. Or what had happened last year.
“You thought, what, you’d fuck me really good and then I’d change my mind?”
Nate reared back.
Ramsey wanted to snatch the words out of the air, becauseagain, what were they going to change? They weren’t going to change those jerseys on the wall of the living room, and they weren’t going to change Nate’s last name.
Finding his T-shirt in the clothing next to the bed, Ramsey pulled it on. Made sure he had his phone and his wallet in his jeans still.
“Is any part of you real? Or is it all just some charming front you turn on and turn off?” Nate asked, so seriously it was like he really wanted an answer. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t going to like it.
Why had he not just played his regular part? Why had he gotten angry? Why had he gotten nasty? Making an enemy was always pointless.
“Oh, baby,” Ramsey said, because he couldn’t stop himself now, “I’m whoever you want me to be.”
Nate frowned. “That’s such bullshit.”
Itwasbullshit. Total, complete bullshit. Nate had seen further into the real Ramsey than anyone else in a long time, but he couldn’t tell him that. If Ramsey gave Nate an inch, he would want to take a mile.
Ramsey had to get out of here before he was tempted to let him.
“Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ramsey flashed a smile. His patenteddevil may caresmile. The one that always brought all the boys to the yard.
The moment he did, he knew it was the wrong kind of smile, because hurt flared over Nate’s face.
“You’re right.” The last thing Ramsey had actually expected was to be believed. Nate had seen through him from the first. But not now, apparently. “You’d better go if that’s how it is.”
Protests and denials crawled up Ramsey’s throat like heartburn but he swallowed them back down. Gave Nate one more of those smiles, like he didn’t care after all, and walked out.
It wasn’t ridiculously late, and Ramsey felt like he needed a minute to get his shit together as he walked back to Wes’ building. It wasn’t far, and he’d genuinely believed he’d marshaled his wits about him by the time he made it back to his friend’s apartment.
But the moment he let himself in and Wes looked over at him from his spot on the couch, it was obvious he hadn’t. Wes was watching one of those trashy reality TV shows that he loved and Ramsey couldn’t stand.The BachelororLove is BlindorLove Island. They were all the same to Ramsey. A dozen or so people all pretending to be someone they weren’t.
“Hey, you okay?” Wes asked, actually pausing the show. Which said it all.
Ramsey wanted to escape to the guest room. Get away from his friend. Go back to Buffalo, maybe, but Buffalo was awful. He’dleftBuffalo because it was awful.
He just looked at his friend and didn’t say anything. Sometimes saying nothing was better than a lie. It was usually better than the truth.
Wes sighed and patted the couch next to him. “Come ’ere. You have a headache?”
For a second, Ramsey considered arguing, but then he went. “No,” he said.
