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Pulling it out quickly in case it's Alex, I stare down at the name, and the anger I was trying to cool surges back full force at the sight of my mom's name.
My entire body tenses, and my lips curl in disgust. I've refused to talk to her since she confessed that the man I've called Dad my entire life isn't actually the man who had a hand in making me.
Shoving it deep inside my pocket and locking any thoughts out of my head, I focus on the task at hand.
Finally, I rap my knuckles against her door and listen to her light footsteps as they head my way. My heart pounds as the handle twists and a sliver of her room becomes visible in the gap.
The second she reveals herself, my fists curl at my sides.
She looks perfect, beautiful, and I've spent all day fucking worrying about her.
Mia gasps in shock as she averts her eyes.
"Too late to be embarrassed, little mouse,” I say.
Without waiting for her to invite me in, I step into her room, forcing her to back up if she doesn't want to collide with me. The door swings closed behind me, and the force of the slam makes the floor beneath us vibrate.
"B-Bexley?" she whispers, making my body burn red hot with anger.
Reaching out, I take her chin between my fingers and push her back until she bumps up against the wall.
"How could you?" I growl. "How could you let him fucking do that?" I lean right into her, our noses almost brushing.
Her lips tremble and her eyes fill with tears, but neither are enough to bring me down off the ledge. Every time I so much as blink, all I can see is him with his hands on her.
"You think… you think I l-let him?" she whispers.
"Well, you didn't fucking stop him. I know that for a fact."
"I didn't… I didn't want that," she cries.
"Then maybe you should have looked like you were enjoying it less." I step closer, the length of my body pressing hers into the wall.
"Admit it. You liked it," I taunt, my heavy breaths racing over her face. "You were so fucking wet for him."
"No. Stop," she demands, her tiny hands lifting and slamming down on my chest in an attempt to make me back up, but she's no match for my strength.
"Did he make you feel better than I did? Did you come harder for him?"
"Fuck you, Bexley." I catch her wrist before her palm connects with my cheek.
Collecting up the other one, I pin them above her head and hold them in one of my hands.
I trail my knuckles down the exposed skin of her inner arm and she shudders.
"Tell me. Was he better?" My eyes burn into her, daring her to tell me the truth no matter how much it hurts both of us.
"You really want to know?"
No. "I'm fucking asking, aren't I?"
Her lips press into a thin line, and I prepare for the barbed words that are about to fall from her lips that I already know are going to rip me in two.
But a beat before her lips part to respond, her entire body relaxes slightly. No one else would probably notice, but I do. I notice every-fucking-thing about her.
"I imagined it was you." My heart damn near stops at her confession.
"W-what?"
