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Yup, definitely broke.
Her overpowering perfume scent invades my nostrils, making me sick to my stomach.
No, I don’t want her, not even a little bit.
“Sorry, not today. Maybe another time,” I say, trying not to be rude, because I already know there won’t be another time. Holly’s pout deepens. I know she wasn’t expecting that, expecting me to turn her down, but even with her tits right in front of me, I can’t bother to get hard. My cock wants someone else, someone forbidden, off limits.
Emerson.
Shaking my head, I look away from Holly, my eyes catching on something, no not something, someone over her shoulder. Wild red hair and a heart-shaped face with two big blue orbs collide with mine. The air in my lungs evaporates. She’s so fucking beautiful, without a spec of make up, and in a pair of loose fitting jeans and too big sweatshirt she should be the least attractive girl in sight, and yet I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from her.
Holly peers over her shoulder, her eyes finding the person who stole my attention. Jealousy flickers in her eyes. Shit. This is bad. I move to step away from her, but at the last second, she catches me wrapping a slim arm around my neck, pulling me down, sending out lips crashing against each other’s.
I freeze, stunned, my eyes still on Emerson’s face, a face that is now brimming with horror and sadness. With two hands, I gently shove at Holly, pushing her away, but it’s too late. Emerson has seen the kiss and is now turning to walk away. Fuck, no.
This cannot be happening right now. Brushing past Holly, I all but run across the grass, but it’s too late, Emerson is already running away from me her red locks blowing in the wind, leaving behind nothing but the linger of her scent.
Anger boils inside of me. How the hell am I going to do this? I can’t just fuck her out of my system, not when I can barely kiss her, or touch her. Clenching my hand into a tight fist, I slam it into the nearest wall, which happens to be a brick one.
Fuck my fucking life.
Chapter Eight
Emerson
I shouldn’t care. Clark is not mine and he never will be, but for some reason seeing that blonde plant her lips on his hurt. It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach.
Even as I run, my hair blowing in the wind I can still feel the pain in my chest. It’s like a dull knife has been left in my chest, the pulsing pain mounting with every breath I take.
Emotions I don’t understand assault me. Red hot jealousy coming to the forefront. Jealousy? To be jealous, I would have to be developing feelings and I’m not. I could never… Clark isn’t the kind of man I would ever go for, and dating it will never happen. I’m too broken, too afraid to develop a physical connection with a man.
I barrel around the corner, my cheeks heated, and my hands fisted at my side. My mind is clouded with this strange feeling so much so that I don’t even see the two people walking toward me until it’s almost too late. I gasp a few inches before I run face first into one of them, we both halt.
“Emerson,” Ava shrieks, clutching onto her chest, her green gaze widening.
“I’m sorry. I… I’m in a hurry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I apologize, feeling ten times worse than I did before. Way to go. Take out your friends before you even make them.
“It’s okay, you just scared the shit out of me, that’s all,” she starts giggling. In my mind I know the normal thing to do would be to chime in, join in on her laughter, but in that moment, I feel more like crying than laughing. Unable to make the corners of my mouth go up even slightly, I fight the tears that are knowingly glistening in my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. All of this, college, my past, Clark, it all sits heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Where did I even plan on going when I ran away from him? I don’t know anyone here. The last thing I need to do is find myself having a panic attack in the middle of the sidewalk.
I feel Ava’s eyes on me, watching me wearily. I hate that everyone looks at me like I’m scared animal or something. I wish I didn’t have anxiety… I wish I didn’t fear people, touch, or happiness… I wish he never…
“Hey, you okay?” Ava’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not,” she cuts me off, clearly not buying my runaround excuse. It’s then that I notice there is a person standing beside her. Vance. He’s watching me, his lips pulled into a thin line, his glossy hair disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it or maybe Ava has, the leather jacket he’s wearing is sculpted perfectly to his body, encasing his upper body like a glove. He’s unnaturally quiet, and the green in his eyes darkens when he sees me watching him.
