Where I’d wake in the morning and try to pick up the pieces without the first clue of how to put myself back together. Not when I no longer knew the pattern of the puzzle.
A soft knock sounded against my front door. My breath shot from me and I froze in the middle of my room, instinctively knowing it was him.
I swallowed hard, unsure of which direction to follow. My heart begged for one more glimpse before he was gone, while my head said to let him go. It was for the best.
All along, I’d known better.
Known better than to let myself get so deep.
Known better than to let him explore and invade. To get in and under my skin where he’d marked and scarred, like this invisible ink stamped across my heart where he’d left his emblem.
Two more knocks. The second came far behind, the sound trailing off.
As if it were done in resignation.
In defeat.
With a final please.
Before I could think better of it, I moved toward the front door, drawn through the darkness.
To the darkness.
To the menacing, malicious man who I knew would be standing on the other side.
Slowly, I turned the lock.
The grinding slide of metal echoed through the quiet.
Even slower, I opened the door.
I guess I liked the pain.
I nearly buckled with the torment just the sight of him summoned, the fiery need and the earth-shattering energy.
That dizzying buzz vibrated in the atmosphere in tiny, explosive shockwaves.
Obsidian eyes stared down at me from where he stood outside my door. Hands shoved in his pockets. Shoulders slack. So different than the bold, untouchable boy. This was someone who’d been touched.
I gulped.
God.
He was beautiful.
Gorgeous in a devastating way.
Because that’s what I felt, standing there, trembling at his feet.
Devastated.
Stupid girl.
“Hey,” he said, his elbows lifting out as he shrugged with his hands still firmly seated in his pockets.
As if maybe this cocky, arrogant boy had no clue what to do with himself.
“Hi.” It scraped up my throat.
Moments floated around us, the two of us prisoners to uncertainty and doubt, before he warily peered over my shoulder into the quiet of my apartment. His gaze had gone hard by the time he dragged it back to me. “You alone?”
Shame hit me square in the chest.
I dipped my chin and nodded.
Relief and frustration filled his exhale, and I noticed him look to the ground as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. He looked up, chewing at that bottom lip, that glimpse of vulnerability disappearing with the wind, ushering in his storm. “One thing I never took you for was a tease.”
Bastard.
Standing there acting as if this was my fault.
I managed a scoff that I was certain came across broken. “What the hell do you care?”
Humorless laughter vibrated from him. The sound resonated through me as if I was standing too close to a speeding train. “I told you I don’t do it often. I don’t fucking care because it’s not worth the trouble. It’s not worth the pain. But I never lied when I said I cared about you. Why, Red? Why should I care about you?”
The last came on a desperate whisper.
The earth shook beneath my feet and I tried to remain on solid ground. But I could feel it cracking. The fissures and fractures. The threat of it breaking away.
He made me so fucking weak.
He leaned in, close enough that his nose brushed mine. His expression verged somewhere between savage and sad as he glared down at me in the shadows. “You gonna hook up with him? Trade me in for a pretty boy before my plane even leaves the ground?”
Guilt simmered because he’d hit it. Spot on. I throttled the feeling. Fought back. “What about the three girls at your table?”
“What about them? Ash goaded me into going to that damned bar tonight. Asshole thought he had some kind of point to prove, dragging me there, shoving girls in my face who would be all too willing to jump into my bed.”
The words constricted into a tight whisper. “Ash thinks it’s his God-given right to call me out on my bullshit. Forcing me to look at the truth. And the truth is the only fucking thing I want right now is you. You.”
My eyes squeezed closed against his confession. It was so much easier protecting my heart when I hated him.
“You’re an asshole.” I whimpered it as his hand traced across the distorted heart between my breasts. My body arched, already desperate for more.
“I think we already established that.”
“What are you really doing here, Lyrik?” It was difficult to even voice it with him standing there, his boxes packed, at the ready to steal everything away. “What do you want?”
What would it change now?
He huffed a laugh. It was a sound that verged somewhere between hate and disgust. He eyed me. Cautious. Gauging what to say.
“Been lying in bed for the last two hours, staring at the ceiling, tryin’ not to listen for your return. For the voices I knew I couldn’t stand to hear. Tryin’ not to care that little bastard back at the bar might have been in there with you.”