Page 2 of Diem

Now I’m wondering if I haven’t been all sorts of a fool. I know Diem is a player. I just never thought he would play me.

Still, if this is his brush off, then I’m going to make it as uncomfortable as possible. Which is why I lick my lips and summon a breath to say, “Well, I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

I fumble over the words because despite my mission to make him admit it out loud it doesn’t mean that my heart isn’t a bloody pulp in my chest.

“Look, I’m kinda busy. Besides, aren’t your friends over there?” he says, his icy eyes meeting mine.

Icy. That word usually defines Ramsay to a T, but not Diem, who’s always so passionate. Diem’s the heart of their group where Ramsay is the brain and my brother, well I’m not sure. Lately, he seems practically dead inside.

“My friends?” I say dumbly. I thoughthewas my friend.

“Yeah, you know,” he says with a shrug. “You should be with them.”

“What are you saying?” I whisper.

Despite his apparent brush off, there are still a thousand butterflies whooshing around in my stomach. It’s an affliction that formed when I was thirteen and has only grown over the years.

He opens his arms wide, and I pulse as I stare once again at his muscles, bare for me to admire, the veins in his arms bulging against the stretch. His dark tattoos, dark as his soul no doubt, are stark against the white institutional walls behind him.

Sighing dramatically, he says, “Your friends are over there.”

I’ve spent countless hours salivating over those sexy arms. He’s a real-life god mingling with mere mortals, and I’d like to know what runs behind his usually fiery dark eyes. I’d like to fall into the abyss even knowing I’d come away burned and surely a shell of my former self.

Diem McCafferty runs with the wolves, and as the little lamb, he’d eat me for breakfast and still be hungry. I knew this and apparently, I still made the ultimate mistake.

“You...what? Diem, what about last night?” I have to know, even though I suspect I’ll regret the answer.

“What about it? I mean it was fun and all, but it didn’t mean anything,” he drawls.

Didn’t mean anything? Where’s the boy who used to tease me about the wild halo of my hair? Who threatened to beat up Robbie Parker when he stole my lunch and inadvertently whacked me in the face?

“What's happened?” I ask numbly.

Cocking his head to the side, he rubs his lips, hiding his fucking smirk. That same affectation used to be one of teasing humor and kept me up at night dreaming of him. It lit my body on fire and I suppose it still does, but now the feeling is blighted.

“Maeve, nothing’s happened. We’re not friends. Get over it.”

“But...last night—“

“Is this about the love thing? Look, it’s cute and all, but you’re not my type. You never were,” he says, his dark eyes turning to stone.

My heart shrivels and I sink into myself. Every dream I ever allowed myself to have burning to ash as I whisper, “But—“

“Whatever, I gotta go,” he cuts me off again.

Bewildered and riding a pain so intense I clutch my chest; I watch my brother’s best friend and my first lover walk away. The message is clear. Last night wasn’t fucking special. I’m not special…

The reality burns at my sternum and with tears in my eyes, I flee, wishing I could disappear altogether.

Chapter One

Present Day

Diem

Some days I wish I could blow this place up just to watch it burn. The occupants, many of whom are a fucking waste can go up with it for all I care. Useless fucks, the lot of them.

I see the greed in the slide of their eyes. It’s no mystery when they slobber after us, hoping for more. What they don’t understand is that all they’ll ever be is a commodity. Information. Grunt work. Tools.

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