ASHLEY
The car smelled like him. Which was already too much. Smoke, sweat, that musky thing he sprays across his chest like it makes him harder to pin down. I shifted in the seat, my fingers drumming against the leather.
“Jealous?” Beckett’s voice rattled me, and it made me realize I drifted for a minute. He leaned against the car, his stupid smirk plastered across his face like he hadn’t just been cozying up to some girl five minutes ago.
I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I was too busy trying not to snap. My fingers dug into the leather seat, and I swore I could still smell her perfume lingering in the air.
“You’re staring,” he added, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you cared anymore.”
That was it. I snapped.
“Cared?” I shot back, my vo
