Page 100 of Broken Bonds

He placed his finger over my lips. I contemplated biting it. “What could we possibly talk about if we’re both happy?Anyway, I told Jason we’d be at the party tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear that tight red dress I got you for Christmas, alright, babe?” With a quick peck on my cheek, he was gone.

I decided to put the fight behind us and move on. We had been in such a good place for a few months, and I really didn’t want to ruin it, especially since he was right. For the most part, I was happy with him.

But why did I get such an icky feeling in my stomach when I remembered what happened over the weekend and Monday evening?

The next night, I was ready at eight P.M. in the red bodycon dress he bought me for Christmas, just as he’d requested. I paired the dress with gold stilettos and jewelry and went for a smoky eye and red lipstick. He always loved it when I wore red.

He arrived at the house ten minutes late, hair wet from the shower. Running up to the doorstep, he kissed my cheek with an apologetic grin. “Practice ran late; sorry, babe.” I just nodded and smiled, knowing practice ran late quite a bit.

The party was in full swing when we arrived thirty minutes later. Before we entered the front door, Julian already had a beer in his hand and his arm around my waist, his fingers digging into the bruise he left a few days ago. It took every bit of my restraint not to ask him to move his hand. I didn’t want us to fight.

An hour into the party, he was drunk. His hands were groping my butt and bare legs every chance he got. We were sitting on the couch opposite his friend, Jason, and the cheerleader he was currently dating. Julian’s hand rested on myknee, his other holding a red cup, raising it to his lips every few minutes.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, I avoided Jason’s curious gaze. “Haven’t you had enough, baby?” His hand tightened on my leg, his nails digging into my skin. I bit my tongue to hold back a sound of pain.

“Are you my mother?” he retorted, his words slurring together as he laughed.

“I’m gonna get a drink, okay?” I stood, brushing his hand off my leg, and walked through the frat house where the party was being hosted, searching for the kitchen. Pulling out my phone from my gold clutch, I called Amber.

“What’s up?” she answered on the first ring.

I sighed. “He’s wasted already.”

“Want me to pick you up?” she asked.

I glanced back at Julian, who was eyeing one of the cheerleaders. I cringed. “Yeah, but after your call with Ryan.”

She hadn’t come tonight because Ryan was allowed to use the base’s computer for the first time since he had been there. She had been talking about their Skype call all day long, and I wouldn’t take that from her.

“Okay. He only has thirty minutes, and then I’ll be right there,” she promised.

“Enjoy, hun.”

Ending the call, I walked into the kitchen and up to the guy serving drinks. “What can I get you, beautiful?” He winked, his eyes roaming my body.

“Just a Sprite, please.” He nodded, turning away from me to pour the drink.

“What’s the possibility of getting your number?” he asked, handing me the drink, his fingers grazing mine.

“None, prick. She’s my girlfriend.” I stiffened when I felt Julian at my back, and my body tensed when his hand rested on my waist, his fingers digging into the bruise there.

“Sorry, Scott,” the guy said, holding his hands up. “Didn’t know, man.”

Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, Julian pulled me away and into a somewhat quiet corner. “Are you trying to embarrass me, Celine? Flirting with my teammates? Seems like you’re the cheater now,” he sneered, his words heavily slurred.

“It wasn’t like that,” I tried assuring him. “He flirted with me.”

He scoffed, his hand tight around my wrist. “As if I’m supposed to believe that after you dressed like a slut.” My eyes widened in outrage. I was wearing the dresshetold me to fucking wear! “Do I not give you enough attention, baby? You said no sex, so I’ve been patient, but I can’t be expected to keep my hands off you when you dress like this. You’re practically begging me for it.”

Instinctively, I threw the Sprite in his face, only to immediately regret it when I saw the pure rage coating his features. His grip on my arm was too tight.

“You fucking bitch!” Suddenly, there was a snap in my wrist, and pain flared through my arm. I screeched, tears rushing down my cheeks.

“My wrist—you broke it!” I screamed, pulling away from him. Stumbling backward, I fell on my butt, catching the attention of some of the other partygoers.

Julian ran his hands through his hair, his brown eyes flashing with anger until he noticed the scene I made. “God, Celine, you clumsy girl. Are you okay?”

“My hand,” I cried, looking at my limp wrist as I cradled it to my chest.

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