Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I hadn’t. I wasn’t sure I ever would, and it pissed me off. “Man…”’
“People mess up.” His gaze met mine. “She messed up, but—”
“You know I don’t talk about feelings and shit.”
“Just saying. Yeah, she hurt you, but from watching you self-destruct over the past two years, I think you’ve hurt yourself more.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes denying yourself of a good thing is a lot worse than accepting that even people who love you can screw up.”
Damn Plato bullshit. This was one hundred percent the doings of his annoying girlfriend. Scowling, I shoved him. “Drewber’s rich-girl ass has gotten you all up in your feels.” I pushed up from the wooden step. “Stop talking crap, and let’s go play Call of Duty.”
Bellamy’s dumbass was right. Lola had broken my heart, but what hurt worse was not being with her.
Every day I didn’t wake up next to that girl, it felt like I lost a little more of myself. We were young—still were young. She was the one person I could forgive almost anything, at least once.
* * *
Bellamy stayed for three games, then left when Arlo hurled in my kitchen sink from eating the box of my Pop-Tarts Lola evidently snuck him before we’d come in.
The chime of the doorbell rang just as I started a new game alone. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.
“I know you gave him those Pop-Tarts, Medusa!” I shouted when she passed by the living room doorway.
“I needed help eating your stash.”
“You need to leave my stash alone.”
A guy’s voice came from the entrance, but before I could get annoyed, the greasy scent of pizza floated past.
The door shut, then she strutted into the living room and dropped two Pizza Palace boxes on the coffee table like a trophy. “Didn’t pay for that,” she said. Proud as hell.
“How?”
She plopped down on the couch, opened the top box, and pulled a wad of melted cheese from the lid. “Stole a coupon book from Smith’s desk the other day.”
“Is that you saying I don’t owe you?”
“It’s apology pizza.” She licked grease from her finger. “I’m sorry I lost my shit yesterday. It’s none of my business what you do.”
She meant who I did. And I didn’t like that. Still, I felt like I was being baited somehow.
I took a slice of pizza, suspicion crawling all over me as I stared across the couch at her. Lola was stubborn. She hardly ever offered up an “I’m sorry” that easily.
“If we’re going to live together, I think we need clear lines.” Her gaze met mine. “We can’t have sex again.”
Bullshit.
Lola knew more than anyone that telling me “no” only made me want something more. Back in eighth grade, I told her I wanted to shave my head.
She told me it would look like crap. I did it on pure principle.
Come to find out, she wanted me to shave it. She’d actually used “no” as reverse psychology to get what she wanted. She’d done it with sex, too. “No, Hendrix. You definitely can’t fuck me in the parking lot stairwell without getting caught.”
I did it three times. Never got busted.
With our history, it stood to reason she was baiting me. And this was a wriggling worm I’d swallow, hook and all.
“Yep. No more fucking.” I did the Boy Scout salute, fighting a smirk. “On my honor…”
“I’m serious, Hendrix.”
There was no playfulness to that statement. She looked genuinely distressed. I felt the slight smile on my face drop. She was serious about this?
A million scenarios as to why she didn’t want to fuck me again swopped through my mind like screeching bats, and with each one that involved another guy, specifically, Gold Finger Chadwick Suck-my-dick. My jealousy and annoyance rose like the rotting dead out of graves.
“It’s not like it’s adding to your body count…” I hated the idea of her sleeping with anyone else. The idea that any other guy had touched her, fucked her, kissed her… those lips were mine.
“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” She shook her head. “Look, you can go and screw any girl. You have screwed any girl…”
Her disappointed gaze lifted to me, and a sick feeling washed through me.
No matter how much either of us might have wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, everything had. I couldn’t blame her for hating what I’d done. I wished like hell I could erase every girl I put between us, trying to forget how much she had meant to me, how much she had hurt me.
“I don’t want to fuck any girl. I just want to fuck you.” It wasn’t the most romantic line, but it was the truth. She was all I’d ever wanted.
The hurt on her face softened. “We can’t just fuck, Hendrix. It’s us. We’re all or nothing. And we can’t be all.”