“Last night was...” My voice fades out as I try to find a word to describe our time in my bedroom, but I come up empty. “But it has to stay as a one-time thing.”
She runs her fingers through her hair and takes a step back. “Okay. Yeah, that's fine. I shouldn't tie myself down anyway, having just gotten here and all.”
The thought of her with anyone else has me instantly seeing red. My hand twitches and crushes the cigarette between my fingers. But what can I really do about it? Maybe I could make it known she's not an option, without her knowing. Great, I’ve turned into a selfish little bitch.
“I should go,” she says as she looks down at her phone. “Kennedy wants to do lunch.”
“Do you want me to drive you?” I offer.
She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “That's okay. The walk will probably help my hangover.”
Tossing the cigarette on the ground, I put it out with my foot and then open my arms for a hug. It's a dumbass move, proving I’m nothing but a sadistic fuck. She comes willingly and wraps her arms around my waist. I bury my nose in her hair and breathe in the smell of her.
“Let me know when you make it back,” I tell her.
“I will.”
But she never does, and I can't blame her for it one bit.
THREE DAYS PASS LIKE decades, and I shouldn't be this wound up over not seeing her, but I am. It's pathetic. Every time I see a head of blonde hair, my heart lurches in my chest and I wonder if it's her, only for the disappointment to set in when I realize it's not. Which is probably how I ended up here, outside her dorm, clenching her washed and folded shirt in my fist.
Just as I'm approaching the entrance, the door opens, and the familiar face I've been dying to see comes walking out. She looks incredible, with her hair thrown back in a messy bun and a pair of sweats hanging low on her hips. I don't understand why she bothers getting dressed up if this is how she looks when she isn't even trying.
“Amelia,” I call out.
She stops and turns around, but when she sees me, her smile vanishes. It looks like she's considering ignoring me entirely and walking away, but thankfully, she stays put. She types something into her phone and slips it into her pocket.
“What's up?”
A lump grows in my throat at her frosty tone—a tone that's more than well-deserved, mind you. Fuck, what is wrong with me lately?
“I, uh,” I hesitate. “I brought you your shirt. Even managed to get the stain out.”
Her brows furrow as she takes it from me. “You came all this way to give me back my shirt? You could have just given it to Easton.”
Wow. Way to call me out. “It's no big deal.”
She pulls on her bottom lip with her teeth and nods. “Well, thanks.”
As if she can't stand to be near me, she goes to walk away and I'm clinging to any attention she's willing to give. “You haven't come around lately.”
“Yeah,” she rubs her arm. “I've been busy.”
“Anything good?”
She snorts. “I thought so. Turns out I was wrong.”
I exhale heavily. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Mm-hm.” Glancing back at the door, she pulls out her phone again and sighs. “I should really get going.”
That's probably best. “I could walk with you?”
What the actual fuck? Since when does my mouth not fucking cooperate. What the hell is it about this girl that's making me completely abandon all logic and act like some lovesick little bitch?
“What are you doing?”
Busted. “Trying to be nice?”
She scoffs. “No, you're not. You don't get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“This!” Her tone comes out louder than she intended, and she pauses to take a breath. “You can't make me feel like a one-night stand and then try to spend time with me all in the same week. It's not fair.”
Pain fills my chest at her words. “You weren't a one-night stand.”
“No?” Her brows raise. “Then what would you call it?”
I rack my brain for an answer, but there isn't one that’s going to improve her opinion. “Meelz.”
She rolls her eyes. “It's fine, really. You don't need to come check up on me and keep tabs. I can take care of myself.”
Turning around, she tries once again to leave, but I can't let her. Not like this. Not when she thinks Friday night was just some fun in the sack to me. Hell, I didn't even get off. Not that she knows of, anyway.
“Amelia,” I call out. This time, as she turns around, she's visibly annoyed. “You were not a one night stand.”
She looks down at the ground. “So you've said, but everything else says otherwise.”
I reach out and place my knuckle under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “You weren't, I swear, but Easton would—”
Anger morphs her expression, and she pulls her head away from my touch. “You're afraid of my brother? Wow.”
“No, I—” I try to explain, but she has no intentions of letting me talk—not that I have any idea what I would have said. I can't tell her the truth. Easton's former drug problem is something we handled privately, and he does not want his baby sister knowing about it.
“You know,” she says with more attitude than I've ever heard in all the time I've known her, “I always thought you were a lot of things, but I never thought a coward was one of them.”
With that, she finally walks away and leaves me standing there to watch her go, knowing I deserve every insult she throws at me, no matter how much they feel like knives.
"Ugh!" I groan, throwing myself on my bed. "He's just so...ugh!"
Kennedy chuckles from across the room. "Sorry, babe. I don't speak caveman."
Being rejected was one thing. I had finally gotten what I've wanted for years, and it was more than I could’ve ever imagined, only for it to be ripped away the next morning. And that sucked. But to have to feel that all over again today when he showed up at my dorm? I mean, how much can he really torture me?
I was doing okay. It sucked, yeah, but I distracted myself with Netflix, and school, and listening to Kennedy go on and on about how she met the love of her life in the courtyard but he has no idea who she is. I still felt the pain of knowing it would never happen, but I was okay. Hell, it was silly of me to ever think I had a chance anyway. And then he came here, and looked at me with those eyes that remind you of clear skies on a gorgeous summer's day, and I instantly remembered all the things I liked about him—only to be reminded that I can't have him.
He doesn't want me. I know it. He can play the brother card all he wants, but it's a cop-out. Zayn Bronsyn isn't afraid of anything. Never has been. For me to believe that we can't be together because of Easton would be allowing myself to be fooled, and I didn't get into an award-winning boarding school by being an idiot.
"I hate this."
My roommate smiles sympathetically. "I don't know what it is with you and the dangerous bad boy type, but I could find one anywhere. Go outside and throw a rock. I bet you'll hit one."