C31 31

He’s built like he lifts weights—or maybe trucks—and is clean-shaven. Something about him makes me want to throw my fist in his face. Probably jealousy. “I’m Colton.” I lift my chin. “A friend of Veronica’s. Who are you?”

He curls his lip. “A friend?” He grunts. “Can’t blame you. I’ve been her friend a time or two.”

I take a step toward the kitchen. It’s impulse. It’s possessiveness