JAIVEN RODRIGUEZâS EXPRESSION looked remarkably like remorse. Guilt, even, which Louise Jensen hadnât been expecting. Although in all honesty she hadnât known what to expect from Jaiven. Heâd surprised her in so many ways, good and definitely bad. Now his face was serious, without even the hint of a smile, and all she could do was stare.
He spoke first. âIâd like to talk to you.â
She swallowed drily. âI donât have anything to say to you, Jaiven.â
âIâd like to explainââ
âExplain?â she repeated disbelievingly, and regret flashed across Jaivenâs face.
âApologize,â he amended quietly, and Louise felt the first crack in her armor. No, she would not cave. She wouldnât accept his so-called apology.
âNo.â She shook her head, slung her bag over her shoulder. âI donât want to hear anything from you, Jaiven. Not even an apology.â
âPlease, Louise.â
Heâd said please before, and sheâd crumbled, let him back into her home and her body, all under the guise of thinking she was actually being strong. As if. But sheâd be strong now. Sheâd try. âHow did you even get in here?â she demanded. âThe academic buildings are all locked.â
He shrugged. âSomeone held the door.â
âJust like you got into my building.â She shook her head, fumbling with the buckles on her bag. âThis is why campuses arenât safe for women,â she snapped. âMen like you can rely on your questionable charm to get in and force a confrontation.â
He flinched, but then composed himself, his expression ironing out. âThe other night I actually wasnât trying to force a confrontation.â
âOh, really?â She gave him as scathing a look as she could muster. âWell, it sure as hell felt that way to me.â
And yet sheâd been the one to return his kiss. To let him into her apartment. Into her bed. Sheâd allowed her own humiliation, and while she blamed him for instigating it, she also blamed herself. Classic victim behavior, and yet she didnât even know if she could call herself a victim this time. Sheâd been trying to prove something, after all. Sheâd been using him, just as heâd been using her.
Sheâd just been the one to get hurt.
âWill you talk to me? Listen to me, at least?â he asked in a low voice.
She met his gaze directly. âIf I do, will you leave me alone?â
âYes.â
She believed him. She also felt a twist of disappointment because she still missed him, despite what heâd done. She missed what heâd made her feel, before it had all gone so wrong. The knowledge made her feel even worse.
âFine,â she said. âWhat do you want to say?â
âCan we go somewhere? Grab a coffee?â
She shrugged her assent. She just felt tired now, tired and dispirited. Wordlessly she left the hall, and Jaiven followed her. She took him to a coffee shop near Columbiaâs campus, an old-fashioned place with scarred tables and vinyl chairs, the coffee served thick and steaming in plain ceramic mugs.
âSo.â She dumped a spoonful of sugar in hers even though sheâd cut out sugar in coffee years ago. She needed the hit now. âWhat do you want to say to me?â
âIâm sorry.â
She looked up, her anger and hurt like a lump of lead inside her, heavy and toxic. âFor what exactly, Jaiven?â
Color slashed his cheekbones, surprising her. Jaiven Rodriguez could actually blush. âForâfor the other night,â he clarified in a low voice. She didnât answer, and he stared down at his coffee for a moment, his expression shadowed. Then he looked up, resolute. âI treated you badly, Louise, really badly, and Iâm sorry. I shouldnât haveâshouldnât have been so angry. Shouldnât have made you admitââ He let out a low breath. âAll of it.â The color on his cheeks deepened and Louise knew she should feel something. Gratified or vindicated, at least justified. Instead she just felt empty, and still so very tired.