Page 29 of Destructive Truths

Averting my attention back towards the temptress making her way down the aisle between the desk rows, I mutter, “Only once or twice a minute.”

Aodhán’s stare burns a hole in the side of my face. “Yeah well, let me say it again. You’re an idiot if you think you can push her into Devereux’s arms and not blow a fuse.”

My teeth clench, grinding at the visual he painted. Murderous thoughts tunnel my vision as images of Liam with his hands all over something that belongs to me invade my headspace. I shake the burning sensation away, and utter a clipped and curt, “Noted.”

Head down, focusing on the floor, Saoirse slips through the other students as she makes her way to the back of the class to her assigned seat.

Féach suas, mo bhanríon. Is breá liom do shúile ar dom. Look up, my queen. I love your eyes on me.

Drawing her hand to her face, she teases the stray strands covering her eyes with the tips of her fingers. Finally, she pushes them behind her ear and tilts her chin slightly. Like opposite ends of a magnet, our eyes connect, neither one of us able to pull away. Her footsteps falter, coming to a stop, mirroring the pounding in my chest.

Aodhán’s voice fades to a mutter. “This is not gonna end well, Rí. You’ve let her get under your skin, and you my friend, are thoroughly fucked.” With that useless wealth of information, he faces forward. “Good morning, Saoirse. Welcome back.”

The smile she gives him awakens the green-eyed monster residing in the pit of my core. Aodhán is my best friend, but at this present moment, I want to rip every limb from his body and shove them directly up his arse.

Saoirse’s eyes bounce between Aodhán, the empty chair next to me, back to Aodhán, then finally on me. Slipping my mask in place, I lean back on the chair, seemingly unfazed by her presence. I say nothing as her eyes widen at the dark purple bruise around my left eye and the healing gash on my lower lip. Instead, I slide my tongue over the raised welt, refusing to break eye contact.

My chair falls forward, and I drop my elbows onto the desk, waiting—no, wishing—for any kind of reaction.

Imigh leat, mo ghrá. Taispeáin dom an troid sin. Come on, my love. Show me that fight.

Three more steps and she’s right next to me, eyes burning with questions, lips pursed in anger, and shoulders slumped with sadness. So many emotions coiled together, each one more poignant than the last. Once again, her eyes drop to the seat at my side, the one Mr Lynch assigned her on her first day, and judging by the hesitation halting her movements, she’d rather sit on a bed of rusty nails than occupy the space next to me.

Asshole that I am, I poke at her resolve. “Take a seat, love. I never bite the same bitch twice.”

If this were a cartoon, now would be the time where steam would expel from her ears. Her glare hardens, and beneath all that glorious hair—that I long to wrap around my fist as I plough into her from behind—I imagine a deep rouge travelling along the column of her neck and settling at the tips of her ears.

She remains silent, leaving me to wonder what thoughts are racing through her mind. Her chest expands with a breath as she rolls her shoulders back, straightening her spine. Finally, she drops her bag to the floor and takes a seat, posture perfect and poised. Unfortunately for her, the unfazed act she’s portraying is transparent to my eyes. She’s pissed, and rightly fucking so. But I want her—no need for her—to hate me. It’s the only way this plan is going to work.

Fuck knows I’m toeing a thin line, one slip away from saying fuck this for a bag of dicks and dropping to my knees and worshipping at her alter, preferably with my tongue. I’m not strong enough to resist the pull between us, so I need to shatter it. Destroy any fantasy where she and I are destined for a blissful end.

Teastaíonn uaim go bhfuil fuath agat dom ar an mbealach is measa. I need you to hate me in the worst way.

Flashing her a devious smile, I then push the knife in further. “Look at that. Still such a good girl.”

Her jaw ticks, but if I wasn’t staring a hole into the side of her face, I would have missed it. Without warning, her neck cranes, and her eyes light with a fire that could burn down cities. My heart rattles in my chest, racing to my thready pulse.

Her next word cut through my exterior, maiming me more than my father’s fists ever could. “Bhí tú mo botún is mó.” The very words I uttered to her dad on Saturday evening when I knew I had to let her go, no matter how fucking much I didn’t want that fate.

You were my greatest mistake.

Checkmate, mo bhanríon.

EIGHTEEN

SAOIRSE

I clamp my jaw shut as Rohan’s musky scent surrounds me, invading my senses. Every part of me wants to lash out and wipe the sadistic smile off his face, but I fight against it.

Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting under my skin.

On the exterior, I remain poised: shoulders back, spine straight, with a perfect smile concealing the hurt beyond the surface. But on the inside, I’m fucking seething, organs vibrating with every emotion.

In the distance, Mr Lynch drones on about preparing for the poetry section of our Leaving Certificate exams, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the storm cloud seated next to me. A haze of darkness surrounds Rohan, polluting the space with his toxic indifference. My eyes betray me, stealing glances at his swollen face, and I hate myself for showing weakness.

He doesn’t deserve my concern. My foot taps against the floor, and the nervous energy flooding my veins shakes my entire body. From the corner of my eye, I spy Rohan as he reclines in his chair, his hardened glare focused on me. My gaze falls to the pen clutched between his teeth, and my pussy tightens, remembering the last time we shared this class—it seems she’s not on the same page as my head. No more fantasies about Rohan. Ever.

Saturday morning seems like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been two days since I gave a part of myself to this arsehole, only to have him obliterate it into unfixable pieces. I should never have trusted him, but he blinded me with delusional promises, only to disappear, leaving me to sift through the aftermath.

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