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Nausea.
Could be because I’m feeling a sense of nausea myself, or that I’m about to go into a different type of nausea.
I should probably read history instead of focusing on someone else’s existential crisis. Just when I’m about to go with that idea, my door barges open. I expect it to be Mum, but she doesn’t barge doors open.
Slowly, I lift my head to find those blue eyes — furious, dark blue, like a storm.
Silver stands at the threshold of my room. Her denim dress’s straps are falling off her pale shoulders. Her golden hair is all over her back and in her face.
She slams the door shut and strides towards me as if hell is resting on her head.
She came back and she’s in my room. Silver never comes into my room unless Mum or Sebastian ask her to call for me. And she usually disappears all too soon.
“Miss me?” I smile, still gripping my book.
“Miss you?” Her voice raises. “More like, I’m here to choke the life out of you.”
“Huh. I thought I was the only one into choking.”
She thrusts her phone into my face. It’s a conversation between her and Aiden from not so long ago.
Aiden: Nash fucked Johansson from the track team.
Silver: What the fuck?
Aiden: I thought you should know.
That fucker.
He must know what I told Elsa, which I expected, considering Xander was there and Elsa looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown.
What I didn’t expect was his childish ways of retaliating.
The joke’s on him, though. His text brought Silver straight to my room.
I’m the one who burned the ships. The enemy is in front of her and the sea is behind her.
“When was this?” she blurts. “How dare you fuck her?”
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t.” I pretend to be bored. “You have a fiancé. Why can’t I have a fuck buddy?”
Her lips part. They tremble before she seals them into a line, and I know, I just know that I won’t like what she’ll say next.
“I’m going to get a fuck buddy, too.”
“Funny.” I force a smile. “We both know you’re too conservative for that.”
“Well, you made me less conservative on Papa’s fucking wedding day, so I guess I have no principles anymore.” She flips her hair. “I’ll send pictures.”
I jump forwards and drag her by the arm so hard, she squeals as she falls back on the bed.
I hover over her, pinning both her wrists to the mattress while my knees are on either side of her waist.
She stares up at me with wild, huge eyes that are puffy. She’s been crying, all alone, in dark corners, so no one — not even her mother — would see her pain.
Silver and her fucking phobia about image are starting to grate on my nerves.
“Let me go,” she speaks in a clear, firm tone. “I’m done playing your games, Cole.”
