Page 36 of Toxic Kiss

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. I can see that you want me. You’ve never been able to hide it from me.” He leans in until his forehead almost touches mine. “You’re shaking.”

“Because I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

His voice drops lower. I can feel his breath ghost against my mouth. The air between us hums. My body remembers every inch of him, every mistake I swore I’d never make again.

“I do,” I whisper.

“Who are you trying to convince?” His tongue runs along his bottom lip. It’s barely movement, but it’s enough to short-circuit every rational thought I have left. “Why don’t we check?”

Fuck. This is dangerous. He is dangerous. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. The tension is an electric wire between us, and one wrong move will set it ablaze.

Cy grabs the front of my jeans, and I panic.

So, I do the only thing that can stop it.

“Why are you doing this now when I’m engaged,” I ask, tossing the words between us like a grenade.

The explosion is instant.

He freezes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I’m engaged. How do you not know that? I have been for three months, and both my father and your mother know about it.”

“No, you’re lying,” he says, like he’s calling my bluff.

I snort. “You just said I’m a terrible liar. Do I look like I’m lying? I’m engaged, Cyrus, and this…whatever you think it is…isn’t real.”

Despite wanting to remain firm, my voice cracks.

Cy looks at me like I’ve just taken a blade to his chest. The pain is bright before he shuts it down completely, which confuses the hell out of me. He releases me and steps back.

Then he walks out without saying another word. No argument or yelling. No congratulations. Just nothing. Instead, he leaves me with the haunting sound of my own pulse pounding in my ears.

I walk over and sit down on the couch. The weight of everything presses in on me. Is this a mistake? Thinking I can come back and stay detached. Thinking I can survive him again. Thinking that I won’t care what he does or says. Am I fooling myself?

Yes. The voice taunts.

My phone buzzes. My father’s name lights up the screen. Perfect fucking timing. The man who tossed me in this cage and put a lock on the door.

chapter

twelve

“Some truths don’t scream. They whisper from the pages we never meant anyone to read.” – Haven

CYRUS

Haven’s Journal Entry – Age 15

To The Small, Fat Fuck Of A Fairy…

Yeah, Cupid. I’m talking to you, asshole.

I don’t know when you shot me with your traitorous arrow, but you can kindly take it back. And the effects, too. I don’t want them. I don’t want him.

Here I am, minding my own damn business, and there he is. Cyrus-Asshole-Johnson-Fucking-Vale. I actually like that he used the firt initial of each band member to make his stage name of Vale, but that is totally besides the point.