Rich People Problems

xxvii | exes and ohs

KIMBERLY

"HOW ARE YOU so calm?"

I looked up from my magazine, wincing—for the millionth time—by the sudden movement. "Is there something so wrong with seeing me at ease?"

Jace only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at my annoyed tone. "Try again."

Rolling my eyes, I returned to the magazine. My mind was barely processing the words on the page, but anything was better than looking at him right now. Not while my brain wasn't thinking straight.

"Would you rather me think about how fucked up everything is and overreact?" My tone was snappy, masking the deep guilt I was feeling inside.

After we went back home from the hospital yesterday, Jace took care of me. He made sure I took pain killers. Made sure I was drinking plenty of fluids. Made broccoli-cheddar soup for me, while complaining about how disgusting broccoli is. Flipped my pillows so I was always resting on the cold side.

But all I could think about is how I didn't want to feel anything for him, hence my bitchy attitude.

Even though my delivery was harsh, there was truth to what I was saying. I lost a shit ton of sleep thinking about the events of yesterday, not that I would tell him. Fear wasn't a feeling that ruled my life, but when it made an appearance, it knew how to fuck me up.

I could count the number of times I was scared in my life on one hand.

So, for someone like Miles to be the reason I was scared was embarrassing.

"Don't be like this, Kimberly."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Then, don't act like a child."

I ignored him, flipping the page so it looked like I was reading. Acai has three times more antioxidants than blueberries? Absolutely riveting.

The magazine was ripped from my hands. "Hey!"

It was an absolute mistake for me to look up. His commandeering presence was palpable as he leaned over the table. Images—ones that I really, really didn't want to visualize—were going through my head.

"Talk to me." My second mistake was looking up into his warm brown eyes. Fuck.

"About what?" I crossed my arms stubbornly.

He narrowed his eyes, exhaling deeply. "You still haven't told me who the fuck did that to you."

"Why do you care?"

If looks could kill, I didn't stand a chance at making it through this staring contest. But my stubborn ass was still determined to try.

"Why are you so infuriating?" It's a miracle that I was still alive.

"Because I like it," I shrugged nonchalantly. "It adds a little flair to my character."

"You drive me insane."

"The same thing applies to you."

"You're insufferable."

"Have you met yourself?"

"I feel like strangling you ninety-percent of the time."

"I wish you would."

"You don't know how badly I want to fuck you."

With that, I shut up. This was bad. The opposite of what I was trying to achieve through this evasion method.

Clearing my throat, I decided to answer his original question. I was desperate to do anything to prevent the escalation of this conversation. "I went back to Ball & Chain to give the last few pills I had back to my dealer."