Chapter 457 - What Do You Want From Me?

Chapter 457: Chapter 457 - What Do You Want From Me?

Roxie turned around slowly, her lipstick still in her hand. He wanted to come into the powder room like a creep? His funeral.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Zac closed the door behind him. He looked at her through the mirror before turning toward her.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Roxie placed her lipstick on the counter and smiled sweetly. "Actually, yes. It was a fun evening until you decided to ruin it."

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing."

She turned to face him, crossing her arms. "Then why are you here? Go back to your girlfriend."

"Because apparently, asking you to leave Dylan alone this afternoon wasn’t enough."

Roxie laughed. "Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are we seriously going to do this again?"

"You brought it up in front of Olivia and everyone else at that table. What the hell were you trying to accomplish?"

"Nothing. It was a game, Zac. Everyone was asking inappropriate questions. How full of yourself are you to think I was talking about you?"

"Don’t give me that bullshit. You looked straight at me when you asked it."

Roxie’s smile faltered. She’d expected him to be irritated, but the anger in his voice was stronger than she’d anticipated.

"And? I asked whether anyone had slept with someone of the same sex. What’s so offensive about that?"

"Because you knew exactly what you were implying."

"Well, apparently, you’re still very sensitive about it."

Zac stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening.

"It’s been years, Roxie. Fucking years. You know what happened, and you know I had nothing to do with what Dylan wanted."

"Nothing to do with it?" Roxie repeated, giving him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"You keep bringing up the past every chance you get. Are you really that bitter?"

Her smile disappeared.

Bitter?

What the fuck did he know?

After their breakup, only a handful of people knew what had actually happened between them. She’d kept most of it to herself, even during the months when she’d been miserable and trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with her life.

She’d never gone around telling people what Zac had done or how badly everything had ended. She’d kept her mouth shut, moved away, and eventually built a life without him.

And now he had the nerve to stand there and call her bitter?

She was hardly a fucking saint. She’d deliberately asked that question to upset him, and she’d been pleased when it worked. But hearing him say that made her want to do far worse.

"That’s rich coming from you," she said. "You had no problem bringing up my past in front of everyone."

"You wanted to make it personal."

"So you decided to humiliate me?"

"You started making accusations."

"Accusations? I asked a question!"

"And I answered with one."

Roxie laughed in disbelief. "Oh, please. You practically announced that I was some crazy, jealous girlfriend who wouldn’t let you talk to anyone."

"You did tell me who I could talk to."

"And you were perfectly reasonable back then? You never got jealous? You never tried to tell me what to do?"

"I remember what I was like."

"Then stop acting like I was the only fucking problem!"

Her voice came out louder than she’d intended.

Zac went quiet, his jaw tightening as he watched her. Roxie could hear the muffled music from the poolside terrace and the occasional laughter outside, which only made the silence between them more uncomfortable.

He’d moved closer during the argument, and she was now standing only a short distance from the counter.

God, he was big.

She remembered him being tall, but standing this close made her realize how much he’d changed. He seemed even taller now, his shoulders considerably broader and his arms thicker beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. His chest filled out the dark fabric, and there was something almost irritating about how much more imposing he’d become.

Her eyes moved toward his face. A small scar cut through the outer edge of his eyebrow, a pale mark she hadn’t noticed until now. His jaw was more defined, and there was faint stubble along his chin.

Then she noticed the ink on the side of his neck.

She’d seen the one covering his arm and the dragon across his chest on the boat, but this was different. The design disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, and she couldn’t tell how far it extended.

Her eyes lingered there longer than she’d intended.

Fuck.

Was she seriously standing there wondering what the rest of his tattoo looked like with his shirt off?

"Roxie."

She snapped her attention back to his face.

"What?"

"Are you going to keep doing this every time we’re in the same room?"

She stared at him. "Doing what? You’re the one who followed me here! You could’ve gone back to your room with Olivia, but apparently, you needed another opportunity to tell me how terrible I was."

"You think that’s why I’m angry?"

"I couldn’t care less why you’re angry."

"Then stop trying to provoke me."

"Oh, fuck you."

Zac took another step toward her, and Roxie instinctively moved backward until her hip met the edge of the counter.

"Back off, Zac."

He stopped and stepped back immediately, although his eyes remained fixed on hers.

Roxie straightened, irritated that she’d retreated at all. She could still see the scar on his eyebrow and the faint tension along his jaw. His breathing was heavier now, and she noticed his chest rising beneath his shirt.

Her own breathing had changed during the argument.

Fuck.

She’d spent the entire evening being reminded of things she’d done with this man. His old truck, the storage room, the parties, all those humiliating memories she could have lived the rest of her life without revisiting.

And now he was standing in front of her, looking considerably bigger than she remembered, with that same face she’d once known so well.

The powder room was cold, but her cheeks were hot. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her dress, which only made her more furious with herself.

Then Zac’s eyes dropped briefly.

Oh, that fucking bastard.

"Keep your fucking eyes on my face."

His gaze returned to hers.

For several seconds, he said nothing. His throat bobbed.

Roxie’s fingers tightened against her arms. She knew he’d noticed, and the realization was so embarrassing that she wanted to grab her bag and walk straight past him.

But she stayed where she was.

Zac’s expression remained tense. His eyes moved toward her mouth for the briefest moment before returning to hers.

She caught it.

Her stomach tightened.

Oh, he had some fucking nerve.

"What’s your problem?" she demanded.

He looked at her without answering.

"Zac, I’m talking to you."

"I heard you."

"Then say something!"

He took a breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw before looking at her again.

"You really haven’t changed."

Roxie stared at him.

The words irritated her more than she’d expected, particularly after he’d spent the entire evening reminding her of things she’d done years ago.

"Neither have you," she answered coldly. "You’re still standing here acting like everything that went wrong was because of me."

Something changed in his expression.

For a moment, she thought he was going to answer that. She could see his jaw working slightly, and he looked at her with the same hard expression he’d had when she’d mentioned Dylan.

Then he glanced toward the door.

"I’m done with this conversation."

Roxie gave a bitter laugh. "Of course you are. You came here, started another argument, and now you’re deciding when it’s over."

He looked back at her.

"What exactly do you want from me, Roxie?"

She opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

Fuck.

She had absolutely no intention of answering that question.

She wanted him to stop defending Dylan every time his name came up. She wanted him to acknowledge that she’d been miserable too, that she hadn’t spent those last months in Tennessee happily making his life difficult.

She wanted to know why he’d introduced her to Olivia as though she were some girl he’d barely known in high school.

And the fact that she was standing there, still conscious of his body and the way he’d looked at her mouth, made everything considerably worse.

She hated him for making her feel any of this.

"Nothing," she said finally. "I want absolutely nothing from you."

Zac watched her for several seconds. His expression had become unreadable again, which somehow irritated her even more.

"Then leave it alone."

He turned toward the door.

Roxie watched him reach for the handle, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

"Gladly."

He paused with his hand on the door.

"Enjoy the wedding tomorrow, Roxie."

"Enjoy your girlfriend."

His shoulders stiffened.

For a moment, she thought he might turn around again, but he simply opened the door and left.

Roxie stood there, staring after him.

Fucking asshole.

She turned toward the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lipstick was still unfinished, and under the bright lighting, she could see exactly why Zac had looked at her chest.

Wonderful.

She grabbed her lipstick and applied it with considerably more force than necessary.

Ten years. She’d spent ten fucking years building a life away from him, and now she’d allowed that arrogant bastard to get under her skin in less than three days.

She was still angry about Dylan, still furious about what Zac had said at the table, and thoroughly disgusted that she’d spent several minutes studying his body while they argued.

And that tattoo.

What the hell was it supposed to be?

Roxie shook her head.

Fuck him.

Fuck Dylan.

And fuck his stupid tattoos.

She was going to attend Kendall’s wedding tomorrow, enjoy herself with her friends, and return to New York.

The sooner she was away from Zac Prescott, the better.