Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) Read Online Free Page A

chest.
He scared the crap out of me.
    With a scowl growing on his face, he leans down.
“Why are you here?”
    His tone has me wanting to shut the door on him. “In
the parking lot?” My tone is
sarcastic as I turn toward him as much as the steering wheel will allow.
    His brows lower and his scowl grows. “No, in the
group.”
    For several long seconds, I stare at his scowling,
contempt-filled expression—ignoring the lips that brought me so much
embarrassment. Until rapid, chaotic anger, like a tornado shoots inside me from
both his question and his demanding glare. My mortification about acting like a
drunk ditz is gone.
    “Really?Did
you just sit in there? I don’t own you any explanation,” I say without
thinking, without curbing my response, which is unusual for me. And although I
always try to see the best side of a person, Gabe is making that habit super
hard.
    “What could someone like you need to come here for?” he asks through clenched teeth.
    “Someone like me? Someone like me!” I repeat, before
a wild laugh escapes me. “You know nothing about me.”
    He glances at the front of my car. “You drive an
Infiniti, and”—his gaze roams over my short sleeved sweater and khaki
pants—“and dress like a prep.”
    Angry tornado gaining power. “The car is eleven years
old. It was my step-father’s .And your reference to my clothes? Are you still in high school?” I
push myself up, and if I were as tall as him, we’d be nose to nose.
“Furthermore, if I were some rich…snob? I think that’s what you’re getting at.
Are you saying that rich people don’t have problems? Aren’t depressed or lose
loved ones or their rich fathers don’t beat them?” I’m getting angrier with
each word I speak. “Just what are you saying?”
    His expression tightens to the point that his
cheekbones slash across his face, but his tone is level when he says, “I’m
saying that I have to go to this
shit, and you don’t. It’s weird enough, much less with Romeo’s ex-girlfriend
who tried to hit on me the other night, sitting across from me.”
    The tornado goes wild in my head. “I. Did. Not. Hit.
On. You.” I draw in a deep breath. “I would never hit on you. I’m not like
that. I was drunk and giggly.” And though I’d love never to come to this group
again, it’s not an option. “And I’m not quitting,” I practically snarl, then
slip back in my car and face forward. “Let go of my door.”
    Across the parking lot, Misha leans against the
building, waiting for a ride and watching us. Great.
    Gabe bends down, his hair swaying forward, and says
in a pacifying tone, “There are tons of other groups, probably better groups
for you and your problems.”
    “Right now, my problem is you. Let go of my door and
get away from my car.”
    He doesn’t let go.
    Misha shades her eyes with hand to get a better look
at us arguing.
    “Now.” I jam the keys in the ignition. “Or I will
make a scene.”
    He reluctantly steps back.
    I slam the door shut and drive off, almost squealing
my tires on the way out of the parking lot.
    My hands tightly grip the steering wheel yet shake.
Though I can’t control shock, I rarely get angry. More than Gabe demanding I
leave the group, more than his insinuation that I’m a rich snob, more than his
assertion that I hit on him, even more thanhim being in the group, I’m shook up over the swift loss of my control.
    I do need
to get out of that group and away from Gabe. I don’t like losing control like
that.
    Ever.

Chapter 3
    ~April~

 
 
 
    In over two short weeks
since the start of school, Wednesday afternoon lunch with Riley has become an
official tradition. Since we both have class in the morning—me,
Community Psychology
and her,
Probability and Statistics—we always meet at the Market ,
a little shop in the university’s main building that serves sandwiches and
soups.
    I didn’t warm up to Riley at first. Honestly, I was
jealous of her. Not of her budding