Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Alone at last, I take a few deep breaths to clear the blender also known as my mind. I shouldn’t have punched him, I know that, but I was angry, hell, I still am. Even so, he didn’t deserve it. No one deserves to have to deal with my piss poor attitude tonight.
Swallowing my pride, I walk around the house and find Clark sitting in a lawn chair in the backyard. He frowns when he sees me coming toward him, but doesn’t say anything. He probably thinks I’m going to slug him again. Taking the chair closest to him, I ready myself to apologize, I open my mouth to speak when the sliding door to the backyard opens and Ava walks out, holding two ice packs in her hands.
She walks up, and this time I can’t help it, my eyes rake over her body, the skinny jeans that hug her ass and legs like a glove, the simple NWU t-shirt. Her mere presence breaks me, and I hate it. I hate that I’m weak for her, weak for the enemy. All I can think of is how tight her pussy squeezed my fingers the other night, how ready she was for me. I know she’s weak for me, just like I am for her, but it can’t happen, won’t happen, not ever again.
She hands each of us one, but I refuse to take it. I refuse to take anything from her. I wouldn’t have even punched Clark if it wasn't for her. She makes me insane with need, with jealousy, with rage. Clark has no trouble taking his ice pack and holds it to his jaw while leaning back in the chair, a void expression on his face.
The good thing about Clark is, unlike me, he doesn’t hold grudges.
“Vance, just take the damn bag of ice, your face is already swelling,” Ava scolds, holding the ice to my face like she actually cares. Pff, she doesn’t give a fuck. She’d love to see me fall, love to see me broken. Angrily, and like an immature bastard, I slap the bag out of her hand, watching it spill out on the patio. She gasps, taking a step back.
Jesus, I’m losing it.
I should just fuck her already, get her out of my system. Maybe if I fuck her hard enough, I can fuck her straight from my mind.
“You think just because I fingered you one time that suddenly were friends? That I want your help? What we did doesn’t mean shit…you don’t mean shit. Stay the fuck away from me, or I’ll make you stay away, and believe me you don’t want me to have to do that,” I yell, just wanting her to go away, far, far away.
Her cheeks turn a dark shade of pink and I know I’ve embarrassed her, sliced her deep. And for the second time today, I let her walk away from me when all I want to do is pull her in, keep her close. I shake my head before letting my face fall into my hands.
I’m the definition of a hot fucking mess right now.
“Shiitttt! I can’t believe I didn’t see this before.” Clark chuckles beside me, the noise shocking me. “You have a thing for her. Fuck, maybe even more than a thing, considering how crazy you’ve been acting. It makes sense now. You’ve never tried to punch me, and we’ve shared chicks plenty of times and we’ve never fought, not until her.” He pauses for a moment, having pieced my fucked up puzzle of a life together.
“You’ve got it bad for her.”
“I hate her,” I mumble into my hands, more to myself but Clark hears me.
“Are you sure about that? Do you really hate her or are you trying to hate her? It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, even more than everyone else. It’s okay to want her. She’s attractive, funny, and super smart.”
Just hearing Clark talk about her like he knows her irritates me. It should be me who’s getting to know her, going on dates, holding her hand. But I’m too strung up on the past. She keeps telling me she doesn’t know what I’m talking about and I’m slowly starting to doubt what I think is the truth. No one can hold up a front that good, not even her. She might be an actress, but when she cries, her tears are real, when I hurt her with my words her hurt is real. Every single emotion she projects onto me is real.
“I don’t know anymore,” I sigh. Even if she is telling the truth and she didn’t accuse me that night. I still spent five years hating her. I can’t erase that time, neither can I erase how I’ve been treating her the last few weeks.
“Look, if I would have known you had a thing for her. I wouldn’t have tried to get into her panties, not that I think she would have let me anyway. She seems to be immune to my charm. It’s infuriating as hell, by the way. I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t get to take their panties off for me.” He laughs softly. “She doesn’t have eyes for me, Van. She has eyes for you. I see it, clear as day.”