Page 130 of Explosive Prejudice

I hated it when he dismissed me so casually.

Pressing my lips together, I clenched my fists and took three steps toward him.

“You know what? Fuck you, Camilo,” I spat out while pushing him.

He didn’t lose his balance while I nearly fell. I would’ve if he hadn’t caught me in time. Angry that I was a complete idiot compared to him, I shoved his chest.

“All this time, you’re being this jealous prick over nothing while you still work at the club. God only knows what you do there, and when I ask you a simple question like why your face is fucked-up, you ignore me. So fuck you, and fuck your double standards.”

“You’re a clown,” he snorted, and that was it.

Lifting my hand in the air, I was about to slap him when he grabbed my wrist and stopped me, then walked me three steps back.

“Calm the fuck down,” he warned, his jaw tensed.

“Why? Don’t like it when I speak back?” I huffed. “At least Jordan did whatever I asked of him.”

His eyes widened, and the vein in the side of his neck appeared. The rage steaming in his eyes matched my own; the only difference was that he had every right to be angry at me while I didn’t. Not really. I wanted him to tell me what had happened to him, and when he didn’t, I felt it was unfair and reacted like an entitled asshole.

“Your dad visited me,” he said, his voice cold. “That’s what happened.”

Releasing my wrist, he went back to where he dropped his smokes and picked them up.

“M-My dad visited you?” I tried reaching for him, but now it was his turn to push me away.

“While you were here partying with Jordan, I got my ass kicked by your dad, and why? Because of you, you ungrateful little shit.” He lit the cigarette between his lips and took the first hit. Blowing the smoke out, he ground his jaw. “I think about you every second throughout the day. Every fucking second, Shay-Lee. You don’t leave my mind even for a moment.” He let out a broken laugh, pressing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I swear to God you broke me. You fucking broke me because you’re all I can think about, and then you tell me crap like you just did.” He turned to face me, and our eyes met, his disappointment filling me with shame. “How the fuck can you say something like that? Don’t you get it hurts?” He pointed at his heart, causing my own to break a bit more.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely because my throat was sore with the tears I tried to hold back. “I didn’t mean to.” Sounding like the spoiled brat I was didn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face. Maybe it was the booze that still affected me or my fear of losing his affection, but I couldn’t stop myself from wiping my face and sniffing my nose like some toddler.

No matter how much I tried to change and be better, I still remained a piece of shit who said things to hurt and spite.

Hurt who? The man I loved? The man I’d give my fucking life for? Like a complete moron, I tried to sabotage the one good thing in my life.

“I’m sorry, Camilo—” My voice broke.

Letting out a deep groan, he crossed the room and hugged me. He was still angry. I felt it thrum through his body, but he held me nonetheless.

“Just… go easy on me, will you?” he asked, kissing the top of my head, then taking another blow from his smoke.

With my face shoved in his chest, I nodded, smearing my snot all over his shirt.

It took me about fifteen more minutes to calm down, and then we snuck out of the room, hoping nobody noticed us. Tired of everything that went on tonight, we decided to skip the rest of the party and go back to our home. Tonight played out completely differently from what I’d first planned, but I was sure there would be more opportunities for Camilo and Andrei to speak.

“What did my father tell you?” I asked Camilo once we were safely inside our apartment.

Rubbing my arms, he gave me a soft smile that showed how tired he was. “How about we take a shower and then talk?”

Closing my eyes, I leaned into him and nodded.

Showering together had become a habit over the past few weeks—the best type of habit. We often joked under the running water, kissed, fucked, and sometimes just kept quiet and washed each other. I’d never allowed anyone to take care of me, not until Camilo. With him? I was willing to let him lead the way until the day we die.

“I’m going to bring us clean towels,” he said, then quickly left and returned with a new, fluffy set.

He started drying me off, like he often did, when the sound of his phone ringing came from the other room.

“Who’s calling you now?” I asked since it was around 1:00 a.m.

“Who cares.” He was about to dry my hair when his phone rang again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grunted under his breath, put down the towel, and left the steamy bathroom.

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