“You don’t know the first thing about me,” I tell her, my voice coming out gruffer than I’d like. Her chin tips back as my attention flicks to her pursed lips, lingering there. “Because if you did, you would know that I don’t ask. I don’t take well to threats. And I don’t forget.” I tilt my head to the side, to see if she has anything to say back to that. But I’m met with silence. “And I’m the furthest thing from happy to see you.” Leaning in closer, my mouth hovers over hers. “So I’ll say it again, Peach. I don’t want you here.”
