by Nina Lincoln
My sassy retort emerges before I can stop myself. “Technically, I can.”
“Yeah, well, you won’t,” he says before pulling the comforter and sheets clean off the bed.
Gasping, I turn over on the mattress, pulling my shirt down, but it’s no use because it’s not nearly long enough to cover my panties.
His eyes flare as he glances at my ass quickly before they grow cold, and he smiles rudely, “Don’t bother. I’ve seen it all before, remember?”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore him as I get out of the bed and find my sweats on the floor. Turning as I do, I shiver under the intensity of his gaze but ignore it because this is what he excels at, after all.
“Well? I’m up,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Whatever. Come eat.”
With that, he leaves the room, and I stare after him, bewildered. Why the fuck does he care? Why pretend when it doesn’t fucking matter? And when will I ever fucking have the privacy, my mother demanded when she added the lock to my door to begin with?
Ducking into the bathroom, I brush my teeth and my hair, but my efforts don’t change the dark circles under my eyes. I look like shit, probably because I feel like it, too.
Every day, I walk a tightrope, hoping my darkest secrets aren’t exposed while listening and being judged by the fuckers who have no right to know, even if it would make the situation bearable because they don’t deserve my fucking pain. No one does.
Unfortunately, I don’t see Max, and at this point, I’d even take Miranda if it meant I didn’t have to sit down across from Griff alone. No such luck.
He sits across from me with a forbidding expression, and doing my best to ignore him, as he has done to me for what feels like an eternity, I move my food around on my plate listlessly.
I can’t say I’m hungry with the tension lying so thick between us, but it doesn’t seem to be affecting Griff as he plows through his spaghetti quickly.
Idly I stare at the top of his head, remembering a time when he couldn’t look away from me because I was the center of his world, and he was the center of mine.
And with a pulse of sadness, I murmur before I can stop myself, “What happened between us?”
His entire body stiffens as he drops his fork and raises cool eyes to mine, and shivering under the cold, I set my fork down, too, bracing myself for whatever he’s about to lambast me with.
“You really want to know?” He raises a brow.
Sensing a brutal undercurrent to his tone, I nod feebly, although I’m already regretting the question. Maybe I don’t want to know, but that’s a lie. I do because he tore my heart out and left it bleeding on the ground, an aching fleshy mess of hurt and betrayal.
Sitting back, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it down by his plate, precisely, smoothing it under his fingers, and I’m just starting to think he’s going to deny me when he speaks, and I lose all control of the conversation.
“You gave Bobby Moore’s sister the necklace I gave you—this after accepting it from me knowing you fucked Bobby the day before your damn birthday party. You kissed me with your big blue eyes and lied…”
“What?” I whisper. “Who told you that?”
“Doesn’t matter. You gave away a family heirloom for dick, and this after I invested so much fucking time,” he says, shaking his head with a rueful grin.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him what I think of his tale, both hurt and hopeful that when I tell him the truth, he might see he’s been a fucking idiot.
“Time? What time?”
Raising his glittering eyes to mine, he shrugs casually. “I only gave you the damn necklace because I had a bet with him to get in your pants first. I guess he won that round, hm?”
All I can do is stare because I don’t know what’s the truth anymore. Is this to hurt me? Or did he truly have a bet over something as fragile and precious as my fucking virginity?
“Is that right?” My throat is raspy with the primal scream clawing at my insides.
“Yep,” he says, shrugging for effect—or is it?
“You expect me to believe that you made a bet with Bobby over me?” I ask, disbelief written all over my features.
That can’t be—he was my best friend. The necklace. The sweet kiss.
With an impatient look, he grabs up his fork and twirls food around the tines. “Sure. Remember the jacket I wore all the time? The one with the baseball team?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Well, that’s what he won.”
I do recall Bobby wearing that damn jacket the following year. Although by then, no one was talking to me, so I never knew why.
“What did you bet?” Numbly, I watch as his mouth quirks in a cruel smile.
Glancing over my features and down my body, or what he can see of it from my seated position, his eyes flare before icing over as he says, “Fifty bucks.”
I’m speechless, shocked, and all I can do is stare into his eyes, glaring at me in challenge as I process his statement. My virginity, for fifty fucking dollars. Wow.
I loved him—some part of me still does—and this, well, it’s a knife to my heart.
Standing on trembling limbs, I say faintly, the blood whooshing through my ears so loudly I don’t hear the words, “If it was all just a bet, then why did it matter who won?”
His eyes flash with ice before he says caustically, “Because I put a lot of fucking effort into bagging you.”
“Hm, I hope you didn’t love that jacket.”
“Why?” he asks, his smirk fading under my dull stare.
Raising my hair, I rip the chain from around my neck and drop the necklace he gave me all those years ago on the table. Although I don’t wear it every day, it brings me peace when I’m at my lowest because stupidly I thought it was a genuine gesture from the boy who once cared for me.
“Because, Griff,” I sneer, hurt pulsing so heavily in my chest it’s all I can do not to grasp it, “Jason Macklemore popped my cherry.”
His eyes go so wide it’s almost laughable, but I don’t stick around for whatever he might say. No, I lock myself in my room and push my dresser in front of the door for good measure.
I’ll be damned if Griffin fucking Hathaway ever enters my room or my goddamned heart again.
Chapter Eleven
You can’t buy love—but apparently, you can trade it away for fifty bucks.
The next few days, I stick to my room or explore campus, as much as I can with my newfound fear of fucking everything, avoiding Griffin like the plague while rage circles my soul. It’s laughable, really, because I truly thought that someday, we would come back together, that Griffin would see he was wrong, and we would laugh about how stupid we were. But the only one who’s ridiculous is me.
I gave my heart to a boy who doesn’t understand the meaning, and the series of events that took place because of that pathetic emotion is something I can never get back.
And in the wake of his revelation, I’m left with the realization that nothing between us was real.
What a fucking mess.
I’m so fucking tired of his face that I find a new seat in Psych, half-amused when he looks around when I don’t appear, realizing I’m sitting in a new desk after it’s too late.
His face darkens with anger, and I smile because I’m not interested in sweet Halsey anymore.
If he wants to be a dick, bring it. I’m past the point of caring about him, Jason fucking Macklemore, his jerk friends, Max, and anyone else. This is the new fucking me, and she’s rising from the fucking ashes of her pain, ready to burn the world to the ground.
After class, I walk briskly away, only turning when Griffin grabs my arm and looms over my face. “What, we’re being childish now?”
Smiling, I raise a sardonic brow as I say coldly, “Let’s not pretend. You don’t fucking care about me, and I fucking hate your guts.”
He drops my arm, his brows slamming over his eyes before his mouth curves in a cr
uel smile. “Is that right? I don’t think you hate me, sweetheart. After all, don’t you love me?”
Laughing in his face, I spit at him, “That was all a lie, Griffin.”
“Oh?” he mutters, clenching his jaw so hard the muscle ticks. “So, you did lie?”
“Yes, you asshole. I lied to myself because the boy I knew wasn’t a cruel fucking monster, but don’t worry. I’m good now.”
“Good, because your constant cow eyes were getting old.”
Pausing, we stare at each other, and absently I note his right eye twitching as I glare at him with shock, quite sure that there are no depths to which he won’t sink. And then slowly, I shake my head, smiling at him sadly. “You don’t fucking deserve me, and you don’t matter. Stay the fuck away from me.”
His mouth pulls into a pained smirk, as he searches my eyes with a darkness I don’t understand, before he hesitates but mutters, “Gladly.”
And I turn and walk away, glancing back when I round the corner of the building to see him staring after me with a stark expression.
∞∞∞
Lying on the bed, I stare at the ceiling as a motherfucking party rages in the living room, this time on a weeknight. I swear Griffin does this for the sole purpose of pissing me off. Then again, he’d have to care to do so, and we’ve established he’s not fucking capable.
Turning to my side, I sigh and punch my pillow, but the sounds are too much, the constant pulse of the bass resounding in my skull, and finally, I emerge, throwing off the blankets and leaving the room.
At least in my rage, the damn music that usually cuts my insides has no effect, and it’s not for any good reason, but I’ll take the boon.
Most of the action is in the main area, although many congregate outside, and walking through the living space, I spy the object of my frustration standing with a group of guys.
He’s so fucking hot that even in my hate, I admire his thick arms bulging with muscle and straining against his tee, along with the peek at his waistband as he raises his arm, a mouthwatering sight, as his beautiful lips pull back in a delicious smile.
All of which falls flat when he glances up, and our eyes meet, his mouth curving in an amused smirk at catching me out.
Dick.
Of course, my cheeks burn, and I turn away quickly, almost bumping into Hogan, who gives me a broad smile. “Halsey, hey, how’ve you been?”
“Hey, good. How about you?” I ask, smiling through my torment because even in this, I want Griffin to suffer. But for what? He doesn’t fucking care!
But when my neck tingles, I glance sideways out the door and meet Griffin’s heated glare as he looks between Hogan and me. Is this a game or something more? I don’t know, and I’m all kinds of confused.
Still, I refuse to let him see beyond my mask of loathing, which is why I give him a wicked smile and turn back to Hogan, whose eyes are bright with longing.
I’m not up for another grope fest, and we’re better off friends, but Hogan’s friendly smile sways me to linger because he’s blissfully free from the complications of my fucked-up life. I need a little normal right about now.
“Fine, you know. Wanna go somewhere quieter?” Hogan says.
“Sure.” I know this is foolish because I have no plans to take this any further.
Hogan isn’t my speed—the dick behind me is—and until I can get past it, I have a feeling no one else will do, but I’m petty enough knowing he’s still glaring to make Griffin suffer. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well bring him down with me. Although, I’m not sure if his heated reaction means he cares, because at this point, I have no fucking clue.
“Hey, Hogan,” some dude calls out,
Hogan steps away, saying, “One sec, ’kay?”
Nodding, I stop in the threshold of my room, stepping back in surprise when Griffin fills the space and watching silently as he closes the door behind him.
“You think you can make me jealous, sweetheart?” he says with a smirk.
“Ha! You’d have to have a fucking soul,” I sneer, my heart rate picking up when he steps into me and grabs my hips.
“Is that right? Well, you got my attention either way.” He pulls me into his erection with a leer.
Gasping, I can’t help the moan that escapes as he rubs wickedly against my core, and a cascade of tingles rushes through me wildly. I may hate his fucking guts as much as I still love him, but the fiery need he creates is something I can’t resist. Maybe because he makes the ugly disappear, and I crave the feeling of being clean. I don’t know, but he makes me reckless.
“Fuck, it’s always been you,” he mutters, lifting me into his arms as he turns toward the door and bucks into me heatedly.
“Oh.” My core spasms under the harsh friction.
“Yeah, oh,” he growls, dropping me to my feet and spinning me around. “You drive me fucking crazy, Halsey. You fucking consume me,” he pants, as I wait breathlessly for him to touch me.
He pulls my pants down and runs his fingers over my pussy lips before pulling them completely off and tossing them away. With my hands braced on the door, I push my ass out and moan when he runs his fingers over me once more, up between the folds and back down, teasing me in long gentle strokes.
I’m about to beg, because I don’t care about anything but the pleasure hovering at the fringes of my consciousness, when he pumps his fingers inside, and heat surges through me wildly. With another desperate groan, I arch my ass into him as he thrusts into me and stretches me wide. “Mm, tight and wet.”
“Oh god,” I whisper, tilting my head back wantonly as I ride his fingers, plunging inside me roughly.
He palms my clit at the same time, grinding deep, and an orgasm surges through me so quickly that I cry out and spasm painfully. But before I have time to come down, he’s inside of me and thrusting deep, and I’m racing back to pleasure again, braced against the wall as he fucks me rapidly.
His feral need as he slams into me so harshly that I have to brace my trembling arms on the door creates a havoc of butterflies in my stomach as I moan into the universe and miraculously surge toward another orgasm.
The only sound other than my cries are his pants against my neck as he growls, “Fuck, sweet. So good. You gonna come on my dick?”
“Griffin,” I moan, spasming around him.
“Fuck.” He bottoms out and pumps into me shallowly as I convulse around him. “So fucking sweet.”
Collapsing against the door, I pant into my folded arms as he pulls back out and surges into me over and over, his cock battering me before he shudders and spews inside me naughtily. His hands are tight on my hips as he twitches, and the last of his pleasure jerks from him in tiny pulses before he leans against my back and heaves for air.
The feel of his warm skin against mine creates an ache in my cavernous chest, and as I come down from my high, regret immediately sets in. I just allowed the jerk who cast me away for a bet to dick me against a door, no less.
Where is my self-respect? Fuck.
Stiffening below him, I wince when he pulls free, turning away and pulling on my shorts angrily.
The silence is fraught with tension as I redress, but I refuse to look his way, and after a moment, he says, “Halsey?”
Ignoring him and what I’m probably delusional in thinking was need I heard in his tone when he took me savagely, I concentrate on buttoning my shorts. Only to silently sigh when my mental state is confirmed, and he chuckles. “What? You’re going to pretend you didn’t like it?”
Wincing at the words, even though Griffin will never know their meaning for me, I rub my forehead tiredly, “Just go.”
“Whatever,” Griffin says roughly, his brows slamming over his eyes, “but for the record, I don’t agree with the boys. No wildcat in sight.”
He doesn’t wait around for my response, which is just as well because murder was my only other option.
Chapter Twelve
There is no redemption—only hell.
“Yeah,” I whisper, playing with a loose string on my pants.
“You want to tell me what’s bothering you? That’s what I’m here for,” he jokes, and I smile halfheartedly.
“Nothing really.” I shrug. “I just, I’m so mixed up in my head. I guess.”
“Break it down for me. What’s mixed up?”
“Well, I like someone, but we have too much between us, and I don’t know. I just want to move on, but I can’t.”
“I see,” he says, “and does this boy like you?”
Chuffing, I smile sadly. “Maybe for sex.”
“Hm, and how does that make you feel?”
Sniffling, I wipe a tear from my cheek. “Used.”
The last week or two has been full of many revelations, and while I can appreciate that I’m able to have sex, I’m also freaked-out that it’s with Griffin despite his barbarity. I’m more fucked-up than I thought.
“Maybe that’s your answer, Halsey,” he says simply, and I nod, but it’s not as simple as that, and I don’t know how to explain the complexity of my emotion for Griffin.
He’s the boy who turned my world upside down and created meaning I didn’t know was missing. Before him, I was shy and introverted, although popular enough due to having known my peers for years.
I hated school because I was constantly anxious and followed my brother, the social butterfly, around with a good dose of jealousy. But Griffin didn’t care about my neuroses and loved me anyway.
He’s the one who held me close when my dog got run over by a car, soothing me in a way my parents never could. He helped me pass math when I couldn’t figure out the damn equations, insisting I was plenty smart when I said I was stupid.
He snuck into my room on the weekends and lay in bed with me, whispering in soft tones so we wouldn’t wake my parents. He was my everything, and even all this time later, I don’t know how to let that go, but I have no choice. I never did.
Dr. Marks gives me a pitiful smile, and I walk away with a grim feeling in my heart, another brick on my soul I need to remove, but it’s heavy and old and refuses to budge.