Page 25 of Deranged Imposter

I won’t let anyone ruin what I worked so hard to accomplish. This is my life, my Isa, and my happiness.

So, as the screen of her phone lights up with a name I don’t recognize, I let the lurking darkness prowl in my veins. Gripping her waist tighter as she strains her upper body to reach her phone by the laptop, I drag her onto my lap.

“Who’s Nate?” I ask, my fingers digging into the plush of her hip.

His contact switches to a missed notification, and the screen blackens seconds later. She labels her classmate’s contacts with their lectures or majors, but Nate isn’t one of them.

“Remember Miss Aquarius?” she quips, her ass rocking to sit on my thigh properly. “Nate’s her friend, the one you saw when she confessed her unrequited love for you.”

I remember a scrawny man with a hunched back and glasses bigger than his face perched on his nose. He was disgruntled, a sneer bloomed on his lips.

“What makes you say it’s unrequited?” I contest with knitted brows.

She scoffs eagerly and wears confidence as a veil of scarlet. I lean into her touch, relishing the gentle caresses on my cheek as she smiles.

“No one can handle you,” she says, neither conceited nor pitying. Just a truthful whisper imprisoned by the mellow silence.

Only her.

Her hands would brush away the nightmare’s clutch on my forehead, singing solace in my ringing ears and protecting me with her fragile arms. Her smiles in the morning, cheerful and heartfelt, would scatter the fear of abandonment.

Only she can love me this wholeheartedly and not know it herself. I chuckle, but it’s a frustrated breath.

“Why does he have your number?” I mouth the question into her skin as I press my lips to her cheek.

“He wanted me to text him when Miss Aquarius bothers you again,” she divulges, a tinge of glee in her voice.

“Is that all?”

She hesitates.

It never is. I saw the way Nate looked at Isa as if she had graced him with a fresh heap of joy. I tasted acidity before I had a piece of her lemon tart.

His focus on his friend is akin to puppy love, and I can’t even begin to fathom why he had that expression aimed at Isa.

I have a speculation, one I feel is fitting for the violence storming in me.

Does he believe his senseless crush can rival fifteen years of memories? Of course not, nor will I offer him a chance to try.

“He wants tips on how to woo her,” Isa spews, face ashen as she blows the strand of hair from her eye. “And for me to sabotage your chance encounters with her. Teamwork, he said, and then we exchanged numbers.”

“I don’t remember her face,” I admit curtly.

She’s a vague shape, partial features, and a whole lot of screeching declarations.

“Lose his number,” I hiss, my teeth nipping her rosy cheek as a threat.

“I can’t,” she declines while fighting to twist her body away from my lips. “Not yet.”

“Find better entertainment.” I have money to let her spend, places to shop, things to eat, movies to see, and tickets to meet her favorite celebrities.

“There’s that,” she grumbles as a long pause stretches into two rhythmic sweeps of my finger across her wrist. “I have to pay him back for the coffee he bought.”

“When did you have the time to accept drinks from strangers?” I search her sheepishly shy gaze, and a strike of lightning fades in the back of my mind, leaving pops of aftershock.

“He caught me outside of my class.” Her throat bobs, swallowing a nervous hiccup as I repeatedly gauge her truthfulness.

Whatever his intention is and how he knows her schedule, I put Nate into the yellow zone. One more move, intentional or not, I don’t mind resorting to a gray loophole.

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