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“You make it sound like it’s a war zone.”
Clark shrugs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in that boyish way that seems to make him more attractive. “I would assume living with Vance is like a war zone. The fucker drives me insane on a daily basis and we don’t even live together.”
“Well it’s not easy, he’s constantly harassing me, pointing out my weaknesses and verbally assaulting me.”
Clark frowns. “Not that it’s an excuse, he shouldn’t try and hurt you like he is, but Vance was lost, confused for a long time after you left, fuck, he still is.”
For some reason that surprises me. I’m a poster kid for lost and confused. One would think I could recognize that a million miles away, but Vance doesn’t seem just lost and confused, he seems livid, angry beyond disbelief.
“He didn’t use to be this way,” I say, taken aback by how sad the words sound.
I miss the old Vance, I miss my friend. Clark must pick up on my sudden somber mood, because he quickly changes the subject. We talk about classes, his latest hook-up, and the pressure he feels from his father to get good grades, play baseball, and keep up the perfect son image.
I’m glad to have the attention off of me, and as we eat and continue to chat, I feel like I’m actually growing closer to him. When we part ways, I’m a little sad, but we agree to meet up again soon. The entire drive home I’m smiling, carefree, without any weight on my shoulders. Hanging out with Clark wasn’t nearly as bad as I had anticipated it to be. In fact, it was much more fun than I expected.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveway. I kill the engine, grab my backpack off the passenger seat and walk up the concrete steps to the front door. Like a father waiting for his daughter to be dropped off from her first date, Vance opens the door before I can even grab for the door handle.
“Where have you been?” His tone is condescending and the way he’s looking at me has my stomach tumbling into a ball. Nimble fingers thread through his glossy black hair, it looks soft, like cashmere and I want to touch it, run my fingers through it.
“Out,” I growl, pushing past him and inside. Our shoulders touch briefly, and my skin tingles, the fine hairs on my arms standing on end. It’s almost like I’ve been struck by a tiny bolt of lightning. Too bad it didn’t kill me dead.
“Out? Out where? Someone said they saw you with Clark. Were you on a date? Was the lying thief using her tight cunt to con my friend?”
My mouth pops open, shock coloring my features. “Excuse me, but it wasn’t a date, and I didn’t use my—” I can’t even say the word, I’m so flabbergasted. “I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I’m not some floozy who sleeps with every guy she meets.” My mind flashes to Sarah, I’m not like her. He doesn’t think I’m like her, does he?
Vance’s green eyes darken. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re an asshole,” I say, attempting to verbally slap him with my words like he does me every time he opens his stupid mouth.
“And you’re a liar.” He takes a step closer, the heat of his body slamming into mine. His presence makes me dizzy. I don’t know if I should slap him or kiss him. I crave his touch, but at the same time, I don’t. This, whatever it is that’s taking place between us, is exhausting.
“Whatever, Vance. You’ll think whatever you want to, no matter how much I defend myself.” Refusing to give him even another moment of my time, I head toward the stairs. I’ve got a pile of homework to do and I want to get a little reading in before bed. Neither of those things will get done if I stand here trying to defend myself against someone who refuses to tell me what I’ve done wrong. I make it all of two steps before his warm hand is circling my arm and pulling me backward.
Bumping into his firm chest, I try and whirl around, but Vance is fast, and using his height and body he easily overpowers me. With both hands gripping onto my arms, he holds them behind my back, guiding me to the nearest wall, only releasing me once my face is pressed against the cream-colored wall.
“Did you think about me when he touched you?” His voice is thick, and I feel my pussy clenching around nothing. Why does he have to be so stupidly handsome, and why do I have to be attracted to him. He hates me, while I pretend to hate him because the alternative would be unbearable.
