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“I know,” she states as if it’s not the most despicable thing I’ve ever read.
“You know,” I mutter, my voice oddly calm, waiting for her response. But when it doesn’t come, I continue. “You know, and yet the comments feature is still enabled.” I can hear the disgust in my voice, and I hate it. Yet how should someone react, knowing the woman they’re sleeping with is basically being called a whore and more online?
“It’s none of your business why the comments are still up,” she says calmly, and I lose it.
“None of my business? Clara, the second I put my cock in you, it became my business. Unless you like being called a whore and get off on it. If that’s the case, you should have told me. I could’ve been doing it this whole time.” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth, but the moment I hear her intake of breath, I know I fucked up.
“Clara, I—” I start, but she hangs up.
Fuck.
12 CLARA
I hang up and fight the urge to throw my phone across the room. I can’t believe he said something like that to me. Like I’m nothing but the scum on the bottom of his shoe. Worse, he thinks he has a right to dictate how I run my business.
Nope. Not happening.
I glance around the room and look for something to throw and come up with a pillow. When it hits the wall with an unsatisfactory thump, I fall back onto my bed and call JJ.
“What’s up, chicky?” Normally, the smile in her voice would bring out one in me, but right now, all I can think about is the fact that Damon basically called me a whore.
“What’s wrong?” JJ asks when I just groan out loud. “Clara, what is going on?” she demands, and I sit up, playing with the edge of my comforter.
“Damon and I might have just had our first fight.” Even saying it out loud makes it seems so stupid. Our first fight. Like we deserve a plaque for the effort. We’ve only been seeing each other for what? A week at most? And I can’t even call what we’re doing dating. No, we’re fucking. That’s what we’re doing.
“Might have?” she questions, and I roll my eyes at my own damn self. God, this is so stupid. I need to revoke my adult card and go back to high school.
“I hung up on him,” I mutter, and JJ laughs.
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but hanging up on a guy is not a fight. Tell me exactly what happened.”
I tell her everything, and after a few seconds of silence, she curses. “I’m gonna kill him.” I smile at the thought of JJ taking out a guy like Damon.
“I’m serious. That boy is so dead. I swear, he’s never been with a girl long enough to know what the fuck to do in a situation like this.”
Fuck, she’s probably right. He’s likely never had an actual fight. What if this is it? What if he’s done with me now?
“I’m gonna set that boy straight,” JJ says, bringing me back to reality. Before I have the chance to ask her what exactly she means, she disconnects, and I’m left in silence, wondering if I just made the whole situation worse.
I look at my phone and see no missed calls from Damon and try not to let it affect me, but my heart sinks at the thought of us being finished. What if I overreacted? What if he was really just trying to protect me, and by telling him to butt out, I made him lash out? There’s a small part of me that loves the idea of Damon feeling protective of me. I’ve never had someone in my life—besides JJ—act that way. And I won’t lie and say that I didn’t like that side of him. I liked knowing that he cared enough to leave logic at the door. Then my mind reminds me that he called me a whore, and I get angry all over again.
I sit there for a second and question everything. Do I want this to be over because of this?
No.
A knock at the door takes me out of my thoughts, and I head out into the living room, making my way to the front door. There’s a moment of panic that it’s Damon and he’s here to break things off, but when I open the door, I see a massive bouquet of yellow lilies. I can’t help but smile.
“I was told these were your favorite,” Damon says softly, lowering the flowers. I take in his appearance for the first time. His hair is a mess of dark curls, and it looks as if he’s been running his fingers through it for the past hour. His dark blue tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his crisp white shirt is untucked, the collar undone. To be frank, he looks like shit.
“They are. I’m guessing JJ told you that?” He nods curtly as his eyes roam over my body. I look down and realize that I’m wearing boy shorts and an oversized fluorescent pink sweater. The heat from his gaze lets me know he still likes what he sees.
“Can I come in?” he asks, almost unsure of himself, and I open the door wide enough to let him in. He passes me, and I close my eyes as the scent of his cologne washes over me.
It’s not fair for a man to smell so good.
“Clara I—”
“Damon…” We both speak at the same time, making each other smile.
