Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“Davis?” His head tugs back. “I haven’t seen her since I came over with the pizzas.”
“Don’t fucking lie,” I force past gritted teeth. “It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve gotten to beat the life out of someone.”
“Dude… I’m not.” He eyes me closely, seeming to settle, and that fucking pisses me off. “She’s not here, man.”
I’m about to walk out, to leave, when a spot of red flashes in the corner of my eye. My head jerks toward it, and slowly, I make my way over to his bedside table.
Right there on top sits a hair clip, two pink cherries attached to the stem.
The same one I pulled from her hair.
The same one he pulled from her hair?
In what feels like slow motion, I face Jess.
His hands are up, eyes wide as he takes a few backward steps from the room, but the door bounces closed, blocking his escape.
“That’s not—”
“It’s hers. Be a fucking man and say it.”
My limbs begin to tremble with rage.
“It is—”
My fist connects with his jaw, and I grip him by the shirt, flinging him across the room until he’s slamming against the sliding glass door leading to the patio.
“I’m not playing, man. I’ll have you arrested!”
I get in his face, screaming, “Why the fuck do you have this?”
“I found it outside!” he shouts, speaking so fast his words go together. “I thought it was hers, and I was going to give it to her, but I forgot about it, man, I swear!”
“Bullshit! Where the fuck—”
“Jess, what’s going on?”
Davis’s voice slices through the air.
We both look toward the sound, out the sliding glass door, where one of Davis’s eyes peeks through her patio’s privacy wall.
“Oh, my god, Crew?” she gasps, her voice thick with sleep. “What the hell’s going on?”
My mind reels, confusion surging to the forefront.
“Your boyfriend is a fucking psycho, that’s what!” Jess barks.
A hint of clarity slips through, and my arms fall to my sides, my breath coming too fast to calm, my head a fucking muddled mess.
She’s… home.
She isn’t with him.
She didn’t pick him. She didn’t leave me or let me go.
Jess jerks from my hold, shoving past me, and my shoulder jerks, my muscles dead as my eyes pop up, locking with the one of hers I can spot through the crack.
A door clicks behind me, and I spin, looking at the man holding it open.
“Leave.” He glares.
I think I nod, slipping past him, and when I get outside, several others are peeking out their windows. Curving to the left, I head back for our apartment, the door wide open, Davis standing just inside, eyes heavy with… a lot of things, sleep being one of them.
Locking it behind me, I step toward her.
“Baby—”
“What the hell’s going on, Crew?” she asks. “When did you get home? Why were you over there?” Her gaze snaps up. “Oh my god, why is there blood in your hair?”
My limbs are still numb but shaking.
“Crew?”
“You weren’t in my bed.”
She opens her mouth but closes it.
“Weren’t in yours either…”
Her eyes narrow, and she begins shaking her head. “Wait.”
I take a step forward, but she throws her hands up.
“You thought I, what?” Hurt washes over her and I want to punch myself. “Stayed the night with Jess?”
“He wants you.”
Her stare is incredulous, as is the shrieked “so” that follows.
“You bailed on me, didn’t answer, and there’re two forks on the counter.”
She stares. “One was for you.”
“You weren’t in your bed, Davis. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, and I lost it, all right?”
“No! Not all right. Not at all!” she yells, wide awake now. “Did you hit him?”
I lick my lips, and her mouth falls open.
“Jesus, Crew! Jess is not a ‘handle it in the back alley’ kind of guy!”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means he could call the cops, and when they see your record, they probably—”
“I don’t care.” I jerk forward, and she stops talking. “I don’t care what happens to me. If you paid attention, you’d know I never have. I thought you were with him and all I felt was blind, hot, rage, so yeah, I went after the motherfucker.”
“You can’t just do that! I told you, you have to stop hitting people because of me!”
“I can’t! Probably won’t ever. I thought you were there, and my mind caught fire. I had to go get you and bring you back here, back to me. Maybe it’s fucked up, maybe I’m fucked up, I don’t know, but when it comes to you, I. Don’t. Care. That’s the truth, so get used to it.”
“And what happens when I do?” she throws back. “It’s not like you want me around.”
“Is that a fucking joke?” I didn’t mean to snap the words, but hers instantly draw anger.
How the fuck could she say some shit like that to me after everything?