Page 2 of Broken Bonds

“I don’t know him, Em. I’m not you. I don’t trust just anyone.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Well, how are you supposed to get to know him if you don’t try, silly?”

I found myself smiling as I thought about our conversation and his not-so-funny jokes. Nothing could upset me that day. The smile never left my lips, and the giddy feeling of excitement filled my bones until Monday morning.

I should’ve known then, by his strict determination, that we would be friends by the end of the first week, and after a month of spending almost every spare waking moment together, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

I should’ve known then that Aidan Michaels would claim a piece of my heart and take it with him when he left me.

The loud beep of a horn shook me from the memory, and I stared at the green light, quickly switching my foot from the brake to the accelerator.

When I got home, I plopped on the couch and didn’t move. I stared aimlessly at the television, hoping to drown out thoughts of my ex. Thoughts of him and the tragic way he left me always sent me mentally spiraling.

“Cece, come meet Ace!” Ryan’s voice echoed through the living room, and I groaned. He just got home from college, and already, he was getting on my nerves.

I didn’t bother to look away from the show until his stupid face stood in front of the television, blocking my view. I groaned, and when my gaze roamed to the figure standing beside him, my jaw almost hit the ground.

This couldn’t be happening.

Standing in all his glory was the asshole from earlier—same clothes, same neon-green mohawk helmet in his hand.Why was this my luck?

Ryan’s friend walked up to me slowly, anger brewing in his eyes. I averted my eyes and looked anywhere except him.

“Is that your Jeep outside?” His voice was deep with a slight, southern twang. I hated that I liked the sound of it when I detested everything else about him.

“Yeah.” My voice shook, all confidence leaving me in the dust.

“You almost ran me over!” he yelled, and my brother’s eyes went big, his brows furrowing. I knew he was about to yell at Asshole—the name I had given the jerk in my head—for swearing at me.

“Listen here, asshole! It was my right of way!” I stood from the couch and took a step closer to him, showing no fear. He couldn’t hurt me—my brother wouldn’t let him. I was practically invincible in this situation.

“Oh, no! It wasn’t your right of way, little girl!” He took another step closer to me, our chests almost touching. I had to look up to see into his eyes, and my breath caught in my throat.

He had the most intriguing blue eyes I had ever seen. But he didn’t deserve them.

“Don’t you talk to me like that! And for the record, Asshole, I’m no little girl!” With every word I yelled, I jabbed my finger into his chest, effectively getting my point across.

“Whoa! Guys, calm down!” my brother yelled, getting in the middle of Mr. Asshole and me. The guy had his finger in my face, and his body was shaking as he tried to control his anger.

And like a hormonal teenager, I was suddenly struck by how his eyes had turned a stormy gray. They were the color of the ocean during a storm, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest at the sight of them. There was a darkness to them that I understood on a soul-deep level, and Ihatedit.

He took a moment to rein himself in, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing. When he opened them again, the swirling mess of emotions was gone. His eyes had returned totheir normal, hypnotizing blue, and I was left speechless by how effortlessly he hid everything inside of him.

“She almost ran me over, dude.” He pointed at me and then looked at my brother. My brother then turned to me, his arms crossing over his chest. He narrowed his eyes.

“Were you on your phone again?” Did he seriously have to bring that up?

“No, I wasn’t,” I snapped. “He was whizzing around the roundabout, and I didn’t see him coming. He clearly failed to yield.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to yield to the left. I was left of you!” Mr. Asshole was yelling again. There was a vein popping out just below his jaw, and my eyes focused on it. “What are you looking at?” His eyes were gray again, and his mouth in the lighting was striking—a dark, angry slash through his face. Unfortunately, I was his target.

“Dude, calm down.” Ryan turned to his guest and shoved him back a step. That seemed to clear Asshole’s head again. “Don’t talk to my sister like that again. I don’t care what she did; don’t swear at her.” Ryan was shorter than his friend, but he stood straight and tilted his chin up to give himself more height.

“Yeah, whatever.” Mr. Asshole walked away and took a seat on the couch. He put his mohawk helmet down on the coffee table and sat back, pulled his phone out, and started texting.

I turned back to Ryan and shrugged at him before going to the kitchen for a drink, but he followed me and cornered me against the fridge. “What the hell, Celine?”

I scoffed. “I should be asking you that.”

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