Page 3 of Unforgivable

My hand shot out to grab his throat, shoving him backward until he hit the wall with a thud. The impact knocked the wind out of him and his eyes shot wide. My face was centimeters from his, and at this distance I could see his irises were almost…purple?

My anger overtook my momentary lapse in focus over his bizarre eyes, and I tightened my grip just enough to feel his wild pulse thump under my fingers.

“Get your hands off me,” he demanded, the fear in his voice unmistakable. He clawed at the grip I had on his neck, and I pinned one of his hands to the wall next to his head. It might have been my wasted brain playing tricks on me, but I thought I heard his breath catch and saw his pupils dilate. But not from fear.

From lust.

You fucking wish, kid. I'd sooner stick my dick in a light socket than into any hole of yours.

“Now I've had a lot to drink so I can't be sure, but I think I warned you to shut your damn mouth. You've already fucked with my plans so far, and now you're pissing me off. You want to try for a third strike? I guarantee you won't fucking like it,” I warned, squeezing just a little more against his throat and relishing the way his eyes somehow got even wider.

Fortunately for him, he didn't say another word. He just shook his head from side to side as much as he could with my hands still holding him to the wall. I took another second to hold his gaze with mine, pushing through the urge to smash my fist into his infuriating face.

But that wasn't me. I had to get a handle on this rage pumping through my veins at his words and the memories that were now fighting to break through.

I needed to get the hell out of there before everything I had been pushing down came racing back up and I couldn't control it.

I released him and he nearly crumbled to the floor, coughingroughly before he looked back up at me with pure disdain dripping from his icy glare.

“Get the fuck out of here. Your lab partner's obviously not coming, and I've got plans to get back to,” I droned in a bored tone. My temper was back under lock and key, as were all those goddamn emotions I hated, and I was officially done messing with this freak.

“Hawwwwk…forget the nerd and come play with me,” an intoxicated feminine voice whined.

The guy threw a slightly concerned look back at the girl who was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging as she leaned back as if she was enjoying the show. She grabbed the edge of her shirt and yanked it messily over her head, clearly thinking it was sexier than it was. She threw it at my face and giggled when it hit me before I could grab it. The booze haze that had cleared slightly from my outburst hit me again, making my reflexes embarrassingly slow.

“So you staying for the show or getting out of my sight?” I grumbled at the twink, arching my eyebrow at him.

His lip twitched up in a disgusted sneer before opening the door and scurrying out into the hall. When his footsteps faded into the noise of the party, I turned back to the chick with a resigned sigh.

No matter how fucking blasted I was, I knew better than to screw someone who could barely walk a straight line. Not only was that shit messed up since it completely erased consent for both parties, but it usually entailed messy, awkward sex because they were too sloshed to get it right. I also was no longer in the mood for sex since my dick long since checked out of this shitshow.

I was annoyed, exhausted, and fucking done.

“I'm sorry, but we'll have to do this some other time. I'm not feeling too hot,” I rasped, tossing the shirt back to her.

She blinked unsteadily at me, a pout forming on her face at my rejection. “Are you serious? What the hell, Hawk?”

“It's not you, I promise. I just need to go crash and sleep this off. Do you have a ride home, or can I call you an Uber?” I asked. Contrary to what dipshit thought earlier, my mother raised me right. For the most part, I lived up to that.

“No, I'm good. I'm gonna go find my friends and actually have fun,” she bit out. She waltzed out of the room, tipsy and topless, and I somehow felt like that was a bullet dodged.

Now, I was only interested in getting back to my apartment,drowning my liver a little more, and then passing out to escape this godforsaken day. Luckily, I was too tired for my thoughts to stray into dangerous waters.

When I was splayed across my bed later, my brain swirled with images of a laughing woman, an empty mattress, a dark closet, and vivid purple eyes.

2

CALLUM

Iremember the first time I got a hangover at seventeen. That had been a delightful discovery that I was entirely unprepared for, and I had vowed never to touch a drop of alcohol again.

Of course, that had been one giant pile of horseshit and lasted all of forty-eight hours before I dove back into my teenage debauchery. I soon learned where the line in the sand was with drinking to avoid that particular shitshow, and I was pretty great at riding it without going over.

Last night however, I pole-vaulted so far over that line that Google Maps couldn't help me find my way back to it. That meant I woke up with a fucking dentist drill going off in my skull and a throat that felt like I'd swallowed a Brillo pad. I was disoriented and barely made it to my toilet before I threw up all evidence of the night before.

It was coming back to me in flashes as my mind fought to piece it together. I remembered the dancing, Griffin, the strip poker, and then there was the failed hookup and…

That's when my brain came screeching to a halt as I remembered why my glorious plan to fuck all my problems away had met a tragic end. I knew in the far recesses of my brain that what really derailed my evening was the excess intake of booze that had made consent for both of us sketchy, but my lingering anger seemed set on blaming it on that purple-eyed menace.

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