Veils of Rivalry
Chapter 33
Guilt eats me up from the inside despite the overwhelming sense of protectiveness, which has my chest tightening. His father is an asshole who only calls here when he’s drunk. Sometimes, he’s regretful, begging for forgiveness. Other times, he shouts abuse,
I’ve managed to intercept every call, but there will come a day when Cole picks up. I told his mom once, and she changed the number, but it didn’t stop him. Nothing does.
“Mia is here,” I say, pocketing my phone, and Allie cranes her neck to see outside, her face lighting up.
Cole lingers behind when she leaves the room in a cloud of citrus fruit, perfume, and undertones of her boyfriend’s cologne.
I fucking hate his smell on her
Leaning back against the counter again, I finally lift my gaze, my heart thudding as our eyes clash in a hurricane of unspoken
words.
Why does he make me feel this way? I want to blur the lines for him.
I mean, fuck, I sought him out last night, hiding in the shadows of his room, listening to his steady breathing. When he woke up, I felt…relief.
I could finally breathe again.
He speaks first, staring at me from across the table. “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?” I ask, letting my eyes fall down his body and back up, lingering on the veins in his arms and his tense jaw.
How can he have such a chokehold on me? I don’t get it, yet here I am, feeling my heart pound harder while he grinds his teeth. I wonder if he can sense this pull between us or if it’s all in my head. When he looks away, I want those conflicted eyes back on me.
I’m growing addicted to how it hurts when he looks at me with such fury.
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Isn’t that what we do?” I question, and he reluctantly trains his attention back on me. “Play games.”
“You…” he starts, breaking eye contact and shaking his head before raking his fingers through his hair, twisting the strands as though he needs the pricking pain to help him focus. “Don’t fucking couch me again.”
“You didn’t stop me.”
He drops his hand to his side as a look of disgust or anger–maybe both–twists his features. I try so fucking hard not to let him sink the knife deeper into my chest, but I know it’s a lost battle when he looks at me again. I felt numb for so long and lost in a gray world. Then he entered the picture. I’m not numb anymore, not when he cuts me wide open with his tormented gaze.
I never want him to turn away.
He swallows, his voice trembling as he lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
The charged air between us pulsates while we stare at each other.
“Just…” He clears his throat. “Stay the fuck away.”
Then he’s gone, brushing past me, his scent curling around my aching heart like tendrils of ivy. I stare at the empty doorway with
Chapter 33
my hands in my pockets until I’m forced to blink because my eyes burn.
Turning to face the window, I watch Allie glue herself to his side the moment he walks outside, batting her wispy lashes and looking so fucking happy.
When he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him, feel sick.
I swing back around before I can do something stupid, like storm outside and haul her off him in front of our parents.
I need her out of the fucking picture.
My eyes catch on the lilies on the kitchen table. Cole’s mom’s pride and joy. Pushing off the counter, I cross the small space and pick up the vase, then hurl it against the fridge. The glass shatters on impact in a spectacular explosion of broken shards and destruction, but the loud crash’does nothing to calm me down. If anything, I want more violence. My chest won’t stop aching.
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