Page 15 of Roaring Flames

We stand just outside Christian’s office. She must’ve been waiting for me.

Or for Ashton.

Good. She can fucking have him.

Even as I think that, my traitorous heart pinches painfully. I despise Ashton with an intensity I’ve never felt before, but at the same time, I desire him just as much.

The conflicting emotions swirl around and around in me like a tornado, collecting debris and broken furniture and worn-down bricks. Soon, the tornado will dissipate, and all of the trash will crash down on everyone in the immediate vicinity, burying them alive.

Buryingmealive.

“What the fuck is going on?” she demands, placing her hands on her hips and scowling.

I open my mouth to answer but then immediately snap it shut when the office door behind me creaks.

I don’t even need to look to know that it’s Ashton. I can sense him standing there, the heat he emits almost palpable. My stomach twists into a dozen knots, and I inhale sharply.

“Desiree. Thank you for waiting.” Ashton shoulders past me without a word.

Grabs Desiree’s shoulders.

Spins her to face him.

Lowers his head.

And I take off in a sprint, hating him, hating her, hating everyone in this godforsaken town. There’s so much fucking hate in my heart that I feel as if I’m dying. It’s a corrosive acid wreaking havoc on my insides, destroying everything it comes into contact with.

Someone says my name, but I don’t know if it’s Desiree, Ashton, or even Christian. I wouldn’t look back no matter who it is.

Fuck them all.

I’m done with the secrets and the lies and the tiny voice in the back of my head telling me I’ll never be good enough. A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like Ashton’s, if I’m being honest.

I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, but I know they’re a product of my growing anger and frustration—not sadness. I don’t know Ashton well enough to be heartbroken. And Desiree? Yeah, that stung like a bitch, but I’ll get over it.

I always do.

Even still, another piece of my heart crumbles to dust in tandem with my steps.

Away. Away. Away.

I need to get away.

Farther down the hall, I spot a familiar shock of golden hair framing an angular face and high cheekbones. A pair of glasses rests on his nose, a startling contradiction to the tattoos on his arm.

Ethan.

He smiles and lifts his arm to wave.

Nope.

Not today.

Because with all of the revelations I just discovered, I don’t know what I’ll do if I were to come into contact with him. Scream at him for keeping me in the dark? Demand to know why he pretended to be my friend if he planned to leave me for Desiree? Cry?

I have a feeling it’ll be the latter, and that’ll piss me off.

Pivoting on my heel—and ignoring the confused expression on his handsome face—I stomp towards the back exit of the school.

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