The Whys of Us

2

Andy can't stop thinking about what she said.

And it burns her heart—the way she handled the situation. She isn't that rude. Especially to people she just met. She's nice. She says the right things. She's polite.

She runs a hand through her face. It kept her up all night. And this morning. All the way to her lectures and all the way to work.

She feels so bad.

After her shift, Andy grabs the box she made earlier that night for him, and sends a text to MJ—knowing if she texted Sabina instead, she'd ask questions. Can I borrow your car, please? :D

Her response comes fast. Keys are on my desk.

Got it, thank you!

Not a scratch, bub.

Andy smiles and sends her a kiss emoji.

Half an hour later and she finds herself standing outside Luke's door, praying that he isn't at home.

Rhysand opens it. He looks at her, and lets his gaze roam over her face, her neck, her body, and down to her hands, before saying, "He's not here."

If Andy's face is hot, she's blaming it on the weather. Even though the sun set hours ago. "I'm, uh—this isn't for Luke."

He only raises one eyebrow as he waits for her to explain.

Andy purses her lips and hands it to him. "It's for you. You like them, right?"

Rhysand keeps his dark eyes trained on hers. There's no other word to describe his stare other than intimidating. Andy's hands are shaking again. "Why?"

"I was rude yesterday," Andy explains quietly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I'm not usually that...brazen. I'm sorry."

"No wonder," Rhysand says slowly.

"Huh?"

"No wonder he treated you like shit." He takes the box and reaches around his jeans for his wallet. "I'm paying for this."

But Andy asks softly, "What does that mean? I'm—was I rude all the time? Had I been rude without realizing it? Is that why he doesn't like me anymore?"

Rhysand's hand stills. "Don't worry about that," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm moving out in a few days. I can't live with this shithead anymore."

"Stop cursing."

"What?"

"Stop cursing," Andy repeats, frowning. "Say 'jeepers' instead. Or 'motherchucker'. It works for me. Cursing isn't cool."

Rhysand's lips twitch, threatening to form into an amused smile. She hasn't seen him smile yet, she realizes. "Neither is shoving a lollipop into my mouth."

"Neither is smoking."

"I saved your life. Be grateful."

"Oh, right, thank you," Andy says, even as she covers her face with her hands. "That was embarrassing. But it would've been more embarrassing if you let me hit my head."

"Your face is too pretty for me to mess it up," he answers nonchalantly, pulling out a couple of bills from his wallet.

Andy's cheeks are flaming hot at the compliment. "I—"

"Here," Rhysand says gruffly, reaching forward to pull her towards him. Stunned, Andy goes, and she stumbles a little on her feet. Rhysand's other hand immediately slides to her waist to keep her steady.

The touch shocks her. It felt too intimate. She jumps out of his hold.

"Clumsy," Rhysand mutters. "Give me your palm."