➳ 𝐇𝐄 '𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

⊰ 𝟜 ⊱

Rewrite ~

'BAD SENSE OF DÉJÁ VU.'

Tate's smiling at me with those baby pink ample lips. The same lips I deliberately clashed mine against last night in an attempt to provoke Lyle. Maybe Lyle Carver wasn't the only reckless one.

"Tate," I say, pushing the memory elsewhere. "What're you doing here?"

Tate reaches into his pocket. "You dropped this last night," He holds up my phone. "Probably when you were too busy playing nurse."

Playing nurse? I thought as I stared at him with a narrowed brow, oh. Then it clicks, the scene of Lyle punching him in the face replays in my head. Along with closing edits of me rushing to his side to stop the bleeding.

Tate's got a smug look on his face. He must have noticed I remembered the events of last night. I guess my chance of pretending I didn't remember kissing him has lost its opportunity.

Tate passes me my phone, his thumb purposely brushing over mine as I take It from him. I pull back quickly.

"Thank you." I rub at the spot where he touched me, "I'll walk you out." I lead him to the door.

Tate and I walk in awkward silence to his car parked neatly in the driveway. I didn't know much about cars, but I knew this one was expensive. A Mercedes-Benz he drove. I was sure of it.

Tate Carver was wealthy, it seems. I suppose that came to no shock, though. Tate was very immaculate. I could tell he took pride in the way he looked, with his perfectly styled back hair, clean-shaven face, hardly any imperfections or flaws. And obviously, the way he dressed.

Tate walks around in front of me to get into his car. The smell of his cologne hits me. It was lavish. But I knew every time I smelt it I'd think about when I kissed him. Tate was a walking reminder of regret.

"Evie, I didn't just come here to return your phone." Tate begins, leaning out his car window. "I also came here to apologize for last night."

"You don't have to apologize," I defend him. "It wasn't your fault."

Tate's looking up at me with a guilty glint, but there's something else hiding behind his denim blue eyes. Something I can't put my finger on.

"I knew Lyle was watching, Evie. I wanted to piss him off as much as you did." There it is. It wasn't guilt I was seeing. It was an accomplishment disguised as guilt.

"He's right, you know. I am a piece of shit, but I don't wanna be a piece of shit to you. I'm sorry, Evie." Tate continued, genuine guiltiness showing on his well-structured face this time.

Apart of me wanted to be angry with Tate for using me for his unknown bad-blood feud with Lyle. But how could I be? I had unfortunately done the same thing. I didn't want to be a hypocrite. I owed Tate an apology, just as much as he had owed me one.

"I guess we both made a mistake." I smile softly, despite feeling shitty on the inside. "I owe you an apology, as well. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking clearly, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tate's smiling up at me, "So let's make it up to each other. have dinner with me next Saturday."

"What. . .?" His words catch me off guard. I just met this guy yesterday, and he's asking me to have dinner with him? I know I should be a little hesitant at the idea, But kissing someone you hardly know is far more intimate than just having dinner, right?

He runs his tongue over his lips, repeating, "Have dinner with me next Saturday, at my place."

I purse my lips together. Tate must have a death wish. Either that, or he's insanely impulsive. If Lyle almost broke his nose for kissing me, I couldn't possibly imagine what lengths he would go to If he found I was with Tate. Especially at his house, alone.