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Instead of taking my confession to heart and leaving me be, she preens like she just won the Powerball.
“Is that where you’ve been? At your sister’s?” I ask, trying to move the conversation to safer territory.
“You tell me. You’re the one who put a tracking app on my phone.”
I don’t say anything in return, because the truth of the matter is that I have been trying not to seek her out all day, and that included not knowing her whereabouts.
“Whatever.” Zoey shrugs when she sees that I’m not going to say anything else. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning to get to work.”
I stand rooted to my spot as she takes two small steps in my direction, goes to her tiptoes, and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. It takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her like she deserves to be kissed.
“I’ll be here bright and early. Hope you’re ready for me,” she threatens before turning on her heel and skipping down the steps like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
My eyes never leave her as she gets into her car and says something to someone who is sitting in the passenger seat. I lower to look inside and realize that she came with a friend tonight. A raven-haired girl is anxiously biting her nails at whatever Zoey just said to her. I stand rooted to my spot as I watch both girls drive off, hopefully back to their respective dorm rooms.
“Hope you’re ready for me,” she said.
I don’t think there is a man alive who is, let alone me.
Even when she was just a kid, my heart was never ready for her, but then she coaxed out a protective streak in me I never assumed I could have. And now? Now she brings out the ravenous animal in me, desperate to sink its fangs into her porcelain skin and mark her as mine forever.
Fuck.
I slam the door and head to my bedroom, knowing that for the next few hours, all I’ll do is beat my cock into submission with fantasies of the brat who is slowly making me lose all sanity.
Not that I had much of it in the first place.
* * *
I’m still in bed the next morning when Zoey knocks on my door. I let her pound on it for a good five minutes, praying that she will just get the hint and not come back, but when she doesn’t and starts kicking my door, I get up, knowing that if I don’t answer it, she’ll knock it down one hard kick at a time.
Relentless.
That’s what Zoey Holmes is.
Fucking relentless.
I’d consider it to be one of her better qualities if it didn’t grate on my nerves so much. It’s plain to see that when Zoey wants something, she would go to the ends of the Earth to get it, and it’s just my luck that I am at the top of her wish list.
I’m about to tell her to get lost and truly scare her away this time, but all logic evaporates from my mind the minute I open the door.
“What the fuck did you do?” My mouth is agape as I stare at the girl who has clawed her way into the depths of my tattered soul without permission.
“You like?” She flips her now short hair and waltzes right by me, making herself at home.
I’m still too stunned to give her a reply.
All I do is stare at the hack job she did on her long, beautiful blonde hair, the plaid shirt she’s wearing that looks like it was found in a dumpster with how many dirty stains and holes it has, the too large, worn-out jeans, and scruffy sneakers.
All I do is stare, because sitting on my couch is a very familiar version of Zoey that must have manifested from my memories of her—a ghetto kid through and through.
“I did good, huh?” she announces, sounding far too pleased with herself for my liking.
“Good isn’t the word I’d use,” I finally say, sitting opposite of this haunting mirage.
Her triumphant smile dwindles into a concerned frown. “Hey,” she murmurs, getting up from her seat and kneeling before me, placing her tiny hands on my knees. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Yeah, and I’m still looking at it.
