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The hurt girl staring back at me, failing to hide the tears in her eyes doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m a bastard for leading her on and not admitting to myself this is what would happen.
“Okay. Well, I know now. I think it's best if we stop whatever the hell we're doing here,” Avery says stiffly and stands. She looks around for her bag.
Fear grips me—fear Avery will walk out of my life and take all the recent happiness with her.
Too late.
“Avery.” She stops with her hand on the door. “Wouldn't you hate me more if I'd pretended I could give you more, so I got to indulge my obsessive desire for sex with you?”
Avery laughs which confuses the hell out of me. “No, it hurts more because I thought I had a chance. If this had been about sex, at least I wouldn't have been strung along for two weeks. One night and it would’ve been over.”
“So you would've?”
She glances back. “I guess you'll never know.”
At this moment, I hate myself more than if I'd used her, because in a way I have, much more than if I'd screwed her. I fucked with her feelings.
“I'm so sorry,cariad.”
She bites hard on her lip as tears fill her eyes. “Don't call me that. I'm not yourcariad. I never was.”
