Page 63 of Hollow Heart

His expression shifts, and the real Felix is replaced with someone else.

The Felix everyone else knows.

The reality of that makes me feel even worse.

“Fine. I’m sure Lex will have your car back soon enough. If there’s an issue, you can call Lou.”

“Felix...” I start, feeling the need to explain.

He turns his back on me as I get up, feeling like I want to chase him, but also that I need to let him go.

The truth that I don’t want to let him go is like a splash of cold water and terrifies me more than I want to admit.

“See you at rehearsal, McKay.”

And as I watch him leave, I curse myself and my damn cowardice.

Because I know, without a doubt, I’ve fucked everything up.

Apparently history can repeat itself.

CHAPTER 16

Felix

“Fucking hell!”I curse as I angrily turn my car on.

A part of me wants to wait, to see if Duncan will come running out and stop me like all those dumb movies Jinger stars in, but the other part of me—the one that wants to get as far away from the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of me—wins out.

The first thought in my brain is that I fucked up.

The second, is that I need a drink.

Or two, or three, or...

I shove the thought down, both equally pissed and unnerved that Duncan would be pissed if I went off on a bender.

Why do I give a shit what he thinks about me?

He made his feelings pretty well known when he told me to leave.

I try not to think about what happened as I drive, but it’s no use.

The memory of his tongue flicking my lip ring is going to be embedded in my brain for all eternity.

“Fucking hell,” I curse, but my voice isn’t as angry or stern in the privacy of my own car.

It shakes because I’m weak.

Apparently, I am a sucker for drummers and unavailable men who aren’t sure if they like me or not.

The highways and lights go by in a flash as I step on the gas. It’s not fast enough, and the high I used to get flying around on my bike or in my fancy cars is nothing compared to what it felt like for that sliver of a moment where Duncangrabbedme by my neck, opened his mouth, and fucking kissed meback.

I arrive home in no time, and the car is barely switched off before I jump out of it.

Anxiety, anger, and worry lace through me like poison as I try to focus on breathing.

I’ve been in therapy enough toknowthe techniques to nip a panic attack before it gets the chance to cause a full blown meltdown, but nothing works to quell the anxiety quite like a good, stiff drink.

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