The wrist.
Shit.
I try to pull away from him, but he pins me against the marble edge of the lavatory, making the cold surface dig into me. He holds my other hand behind my back, disallowing me from moving as his punishing eyes study the marks on my skin.
My gaze strays away, not wanting to see how he looks at me, at that part of me no one should see. Even I don’t like seeing it.
The cut marks are engraved in my head without having to glance at them. They’re messy, but not that deep. Severe, but not deadly.
I was a failure even at that. None of it is elegant and pretty. It’s all a big fucking mess.
“I suppose this is none of my business either.” His voice is light, calm, as if he’s not staring at the most shameful part of me.
How can he manage to make me hate myself by just looking at me? Why does he have that power?
He shouldn’t.
He left me.
He didn’t want to forgive me.
What right does he have to stare at me with those disapproving eyes as if we’re still friends? As if my wellbeing matters?
“It isn’t.” My tone is biting, translating all the frustration bubbling inside me. “You said it yourself that day, we’re strangers and should pretend we don’t know each other, even if we cross paths, right? So be a stranger and leave me the hell alone.”
More importantly, stop looking at me with those eyes.
I’m this close to melting in his touch. His soft touch, even though he’s a brutal, vicious person.
“I said that, didn’t I?” His gaze never leaves my wrist, like it’s the first time he’s seeing a cutting scar.
Or a scar altogether.
“You did,” I repeat.
“Strangers can become familiar with each other again.”
“Huh?”
“I changed my mind, Kimberly.”
“You changed your mind?”
His pale eyes meet mine with a determination that nearly knocks me off my feet. “I’m making it my business.”
My mouth falls open. I want to say something, but I can’t. When I finally speak, my voice is haunted, spooked even. “You…you can’t do that.”
“Watch. Me.”
“Are you forgiving me?” I curse the hope in my voice and all the jumbled emotions that come with it. I shouldn’t feel this way after I decided I’m erasing him from my life.
“Of course not,” he bites out. “That sin is unforgivable.”
My chin locks, but I manage to speak without emotions. “Then let me go. My life is none of your concern.”
“Told you, I’m making it mine.”
“But why? Fucking why?”
“That fucking attitude.” He narrows his right eye, but it quickly returns to normal. “You don’t get to take the easy way out just because you can. You don’t get to disappear just because you want to. I’m ruining all your plans, so you better be ready for me, Kimberly.”
He gently, so gently, pulls down my pullover to hide the scar, no idea if it disgusts him like the rest of me or if it’s another one of his cruel games. It’s so shocking how soft and gentle he can be. He simply chooses the other route with me – the rugged edge that’s meant to cut and hurt.
The one people reserve for their enemies.
“Hide while you can.” He pats my hand once, and although his skin is warm, it feels so cold. “When I find you, I’ll drag you out kicking and screaming.”
7
Kimberly
My blood is still boiling by the next day at school.
I tried to ignore it, and even spent the entire night dancing to a random list on Apple Music because that’s the only thing that usually gets me out of my funk.
It helps push the fog away.
However, I was too agitated and red with anger for the fog to come. It was burned and turned into nothingness.
I barely managed to sleep after what happened in Elsa’s house. It kept replaying at the back of my head on a loop, no matter how much I wanted to push it away.
Even now, as I sit next to Elsa, I can almost feel Xander’s breath mingling with mine, his threats rolling off my skin like a promise meant to cut. I can smell him on me, intertwined with mint and fresh laundry and ocean scent, even though I’ve taken three showers since yesterday.
What the hell. Seriously?
“Kim?” Elsa waves a hand in front of my face.
“Huh?” I sound as distracted as I feel.
“Did you hear a word I said?” she asks with a tone that implies she knows I didn’t.
This is Elsa’s first day back at school. I’m supposed to be her wingman, but I’m totally failing at that.
“Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.” A certain face and voice kept me up, and I might have stalked his window.
When he drove me and Kir home, I sat with Kir in the back, ignoring Xander’s glare, and then he went out and didn’t return.
At least, not until I fell asleep re-watching Atonement somewhere after one in the morning.
Not that I watch him all the time. I told you, I just notice things.
Like right now, he isn’t here yet, even though the class is about to start.
Xander isn’t the brightest one amongst the horsemen, but he always has good grades in spite of skipping classes.
This must be one of the days he sleeps in.
Not that I care.
“Here.” I push my notebooks at Elsa. “I highlighted all the sections you missed. If you need anything else, I’m your girl.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Elsa rubs my arm with a warm smile. “You’re the best.”
“No, I am.” Aiden’s voice halts my small victory dance at Elsa’s words.
He stands before her desk and taps his finger in front of her. “I told you I’d drive you.”
“And I told you Kim would do it.” Elsa stares up at him meeting his harsh stare with her unyielding one.
Aiden King is a ruler here, and although we were basically brought up together, he always gave me the chills, real ones, not those mixed with chaotic emotions like Xander gives me.
The moment he glares, everyone has the urge to blend with the walls or dig a grave and bury themselves in it – me included.
Elsa is possibly the only one who doesn’t bow down to his authority, not even when he was her worst nightmare. Maybe that’s why he looks at her as if she’s his world and he’ll unleash hell on everyone else just to see her smile.
He’s the type of king who’ll start wars for his queen.
As scary as Aiden is, I love the way he looks at Elsa, the way his brows soften under his hard face, the way he tells her without words that he’s hers as much as she’s his.
I’ve been watching them since they began, and I fell in love with them together worse than a fangirl falling for fictional heroes in romance novels.
The fangirl is me, by the way. I have more book boyfriends than I can count. Don’t judge.
“Hmm.” He strokes a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll pay for that later, sweetheart.”
“Show me your worst, Aiden.”
God. It’s so unfair to watch this and know it’ll never happen to me.