Page 102 of Lucky Shot

“You can, it’s just . . .” I live here too? I live in this shady, unsafe neighborhood because that’s all I can afford. How do I explain that to someone like you who grew up in a polar opposite situation? Especially when you’ve made it clear that you think where I live is crappy.

And even in recognizing that, it doesn’t dissipate the shame I feel.

“If you don’t give me an address, I’ll be forced to take you to my place. Easy solution.”

Panic flickers through me as the nausea I’ve felt all day returns. I feel shitty enough that the lie rolls off my tongue without much arguing.

“Um, Corte Villa Apartments,” I say and then rattle off Suri’s old address to him. At least I know the complex is nice and there’s an exterior gate he can’t follow me in past.

The last thing I can afford is to pay for a rideshare home from there, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting him see my place.

I fight the urge to wrap my arms around my abdomen as the ache there grows more intense and the beginning of a fever hits. My palms are clammy, and my head is dizzy, but I don’t say a word.

Just get me to Suri’s old place. Then I can get home and not worry about him seeing me like this.

Luckily, we pull up in front in no time, but I’ve neglected to think of the next steps and what to do now.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” I say quickly as he opens the passenger door for me.

“I insist.”

“No. Please.” I reach out and put a hand on his bicep. Quick. Think of a reason. “Taking me home was more than enough.”

He looks over my shoulder to the gate at the apartments’ entrance and then back to me. Here’s to hoping they haven’t changed the gate code since she moved.

“I don’t feel right—”

“No. I insist. The neighbor has a newborn. Strangers make the dog in the apartment across bark. It wakes the baby up. I’m just trying to be nice.” What in the hell are you saying, Whit?

He eyes me a little closer—almost as if he’s checking to see if I’m delirious. Eventually, he’s okay with what he sees because he rubs a hand up and down my back. “I’ll pick you up at eight then?”

“No. Please. It’s okay.” I don’t have the funds to pay for a rideshare back here. This is ridiculous but I put myself in this position to begin with. “I’ll—uh—catch a ride with my best friend. She heads that way.”

“Suri, right? The blonde from the bar?”

“Yes. Her.” Everybody notices Suri. It’s not surprising he has either. “We carpool sometimes.” I force a smile.

He eyes me and nods. “I’m having a tough time figuring you out when I can normally figure anyone out.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, but I want to.” He purses his lips and shakes his head as he runs the back of his hand down my cheek. I fight the urge to lean into it.

“I’m not exactly an open book.”

“And according to you, I’m not your type.” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge.

“You’re not,” I lie. “You’re wild and unpredictable, and you—”

“What? You don’t like walks on the wild side every now and again?” he asks as my body heats up at the thought despite not feeling too hot.

I smile. “Not when those walks mean I’m going to walk off a cliff and get hurt.”

“Good thing I hate hiking up tall mountains and regularly avoid cliffs.”

Why is he saying all of this? There’s no way in hell Hardy is suggesting what I think he is—least of all with me.

“I’m the one in pain here,” I say pressing a hand to my abdomen, “but you’re the one who’s clearly hallucinating.”