Page 208 of Overcast

Her arm cocks back, and she swings, but the GQ model lookalike catches her hand—Stormi’s fucking hand.

My heart plunges, I don’t know to where. All I know is that I can’t breathe.

I can’t stop staring.

Nothing productive enters my mind, but what I just told Emmy.

He has my girl, the one I left behind.

The only one I’ve ever loved selfishly and whole-heartedly.

The same female that scares the shit out of me because she can destroy me. She can order me to do anything, and I would, without flinching. It’s why I never asked her what she wanted to do. When she told me she loved me, that was it. She’d want to stay, I’d break her, and when she left me eventually, I’d never be able to function right again.

I barely am now, but it’s temporary.

That’s what I keep telling myself. I might be in love with her but not spending years with her, so I don’t come up with ideas of what a somewhat normal life could be like would be more beneficial.

What like having kids and shit?

Already did that, prick. You think about it, obsessively.

GQ model heedlessly yanks Stormi, driving her into his chest. Then he points to the camera, the one I’m looking at him from.

Stormi’s eyes follow his index finger directed at me, considerably frightened and pissed.

Good, baby, don’t let him scare youto where you shut down.

GQ twists his hand before extending his middle finger, letting a smirk break free off his entitled-looking face.

He knows what I want. He must be privy to who the fuck I am.

But does he, though?

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