"What are you doing here?" I asked, my heart racing and my face flushing. How much had he heard?
"I was passing by and thought I should see you," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
"Stop bullshitting me for once and tell me what you really want," I scoffed. "And how long were you standing there?"
"Who were you talking to that made you so defensive?"
"You know what? I don't care why you're here—just get out before I call someone," I hissed, stepping closer. Of course, I wouldn't actually call anyone, but he didn't need to know that.
"I would love to see you try," he said, lifting the side of his black blazer. A black leather gun holster was strapped to his waist, the gun in clear view. Now that I really looked at him—black fitted pants, a T-shirt, and a black
