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His eyes widen as if he can see the intention and he pushes me so hard, I stumble back.
I’m forced to release him, my body starving and needing more.
More.
More.
Fucking more.
His jaw tics and his muscles tighten. And just like that, he slips back to the uptight asshole with serious issues. “I told you not to touch me, you disgusting prick.”
Aaaand he fucking ruined it.
I swing my fist back and then drive it into the side of his face. He stumbles, only held up by the wall, and I tackle him, watching in pure satisfaction as he topples to the floor, all haze leaving his face and replaced with pure confusion.
“I told you I’d beat you the fuck up if you said that again. Get the fuck out of my face, hypocrite.”
Instead of waiting for him to leave, I turn around and stalk to my room.
My nerves pound, my dick hard as fuck, and my mind jittering with thoughts to go back there and pummel him.
Fuck him right the fuck off.
Straight crush is officially over.
7
BRANDON
“I’m fine, Mum. Seriously.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I stare at the canvas filled with sharp yellow while holding the phone to my ear.
“Then let me see your face, hon,” Mum says softly, almost pleadingly.
She’s always pleading with me, my mum, imploring, asking,probing, and disturbing my routine.
I exhale a long breath.
I sound like a damn twat to the mother who only ever treated me with care, love, and understanding.
And maybe I’m on edge because I don’t want her to hate me. I hate me enough for both of us.
“You know I don’t like FaceTime,” I grumble, then try in a more cheerful tone, “I have a school project to finish. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bran.” She stops, probably trying to choose her words carefully.She never has to choose her words with the family's golden boy, Lan.Apparently, I screw up everything, Mum’s caring side included. “If you’re under stress or anything, you know you can talk to me, right? Or you can speak to your dad if you prefer. We’re here for you, whatever it is. You know that, right?”
My chest expands with constricting breath and I expel it out of my lungs, but it gets stuck in my throat. Pressure builds behind my skull and I want to bang it against the nearest fucking wall.
But I don’t.
Because I’m in fucking control.
Always.
“I know, Mum,” I whisper back.
“Listen. I know it’s too soon to talk about this, but I think Grace might be open to take you next year.”
