A slow burn filled my stomach, traveling through my veins like acid. I knew I wasn’t the kind of girl who had guys dropping their undies for her every day, but I wasn’t so bad off that a guy would have to be out his mind to want to hook up with me.

Anger bubbled up like water boiling over, but a deep hurt festered underneath it, fueling my words. “I’m not what? A girl who doesn’t randomly hook up with guys she meets in bars? Someone who obviously has taste and a sense of self-worth?”

His brows flew up. “Whoa. That’s—”

“That’s the kind of girls you go for,” I cut in, my hands clenching into tiny fists. “And just because I’m not like that, then no other guy could possibly want to be with me? Maybe Paul just has taste and doesn’t have a thing for girls named Mindy.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. A muscle popped in his jaw as he stared straight ahead. “First off, the last time I checked, I have superb taste. Secondly, I’m an adult. So are the girls I hang out with. Thirdly—” How many points is he going to make? “—It’s okay to have fun, Sydney. Fun. As in something that exists outside of reading books and going to class.”

My mouth dropped open. “I know how to have fun, you ass.”

Kyler smirked. “That’s bullshit. You’re the most uptight person I know. You’re—”

“If you say frigid, I will kick your ass and crash this car.” My heart thumped painfully. “Seriously.”

He looked at me then, almost like he was startled. “I wasn’t going to say that, Syd. I would never say that.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

“Anyway, you’ve distracted me from my final point.”

“Oh, do tell.”

The infuriating half-smile was back. “There isn’t a damn thing wrong with the friends I bring home.”

“But there’s something wrong with me?” The moment those words left my mouth I wanted to punch myself. I don’t think I could possibly sound more pathetic.

“Other than the fact you should wear a sign that says ‘interact with at your own risk?’ No. Nothing at all wrong with you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, shut the hell up.”

Kyler drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, a sure sign he was close to losing his patience. “Sometimes, I don’t even know how we’re friends,” he said, running one hand over his head. “Honestly, I don’t.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I quickly turned my attention to the side window. Pressure clamped down on my chest, a powerful ache that made it hard to breathe. We really were the lion and the gimpy gazelle.

“Me, neither,” I whispered.