Page 53 of Insatiable Hunger

“Did you know Elias was coming?” More often than not, I avoid asking or talking about Elias at all, because it feels like Valerie can see right through me and know why I’m actually bringing him up, which is absurd, I know that.

“Not until about two hours ago,” she states. “Apparently, Katie convinced him to come.”

The song wraps up, and we return to our table. Some women I recognize from the country club come up and start chatting with Valerie, so I excuse myself, needing to step outside for some fresh air.

The night is chilly as it washes over my face, goosebumps blooming on my body as I rest my back against the old brick siding of the building. The sky is clear, the stars surprisingly visible tonight, not a cloud in sight.

Trepidation sits heavy in my gut, a feeling of dread I’m unable to shake burying itself in my chest. It’s like this every time me and him are in the same vicinity. The past haunts me, the guilt that comes with it thick like sludge. This was never supposed to be this fucked up.

A creaking sounds from beside me when the side door opens, and I know that it’s him without even looking. It’s like my body can sense his.

“What are you doing out here, Elias?” My voice comes out gruff, the question sounding strained, like even speaking to him is using all my self-control.

“Just checking on the happy husband,” he sneers, the slur in his words giving way to how much he’s had to drink. His clean, fresh scent wafts over to me, mixing with the heavy scent of rum on his breath from his close proximity.

Dipping my chin, my gaze connects with his. They’re bloodshot, making the green appear brighter than normal, and his hair is tousled, sticking up this way and that, indicating he’s probably been running his fingers through it. I hate what that visual does to my insides.

“Go back inside,” I tell him in a stern tone.

He doesn’t seem to like that, though, because he scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t know where you get off thinking you get to tell me what to do at all,Zeke.” The way my name rolls off his tongue like a curse word makes me cringe. He’s way more drunk than I thought.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit, Elias. Go. Back. Inside,” I growl. And because I’d like to avoid a fight altogether, I add, “Your mother is excited to see you.”

“Fuck you,” he spits, shifting his body so he’s facing me. “Don’t act like you give a single shit about my mother or what makes her happy.”

My head snaps in his direction, my blood pressure skyrocketing. “Watch yourself,” I grit out.

“You’re such a fucking piece of shit, you know that?” He huffs out a laugh. “You walk around, larger than life, like you don’t have this massive secret you’re keeping from her. You walk around like you didn’t rock my entire fucking world, only to turn around and pretend it never fucking happened. You ignore it, like that’ll magically mean it didn’t happen, only acknowledging it when it fucking suits you.”

The blood roars in my ears as the organ in my chest hammers away, like it’s trying to break free and wrap around the very person I shouldn’t want. His words cling to every fiber of my being, and I know I should walk away from him… but I can’t. My body is frozen, feet glued to the pavement, as he continues what seems to be a subconscious stream of thought.

“How do you live with yourself?” It’s a question, but I know it’s rhetorical. “Did that night meananythingto you? Do you think about it? Because you know what? I do. I fucking think about that nightconstantly.Nobody has compared to you, Zeke. Do you get that?”

The words come out of him high-pitched. He’s becoming hysterical. Shaky fingers thrust into his hair, further mussing it up as his wild, red-rimmed eyes hold me to the spot.

“I’ve tried…” he mumbles, looking off to the side. “Tried to get you out of my head. Tried to forget how your hands felt on my body. I’ve fuckingtried!It’s like your memory refuses to be erased. Refuses to be replaced. What have you done to me? And then that shit you said to me the night before your wedding… fuck you, Zeke! Fuck you.”

The night and the words he’s referencing sit in my mind with pure clarity.

“But I need you to know, I never wanted it to be this way.”

It was said in a moment of weakness. A moment I’m not proud of.

And this very moment, right here with him, it’s giving me a twisted sense of déjà vu. The dread thickens inside of me, threatening to drown me with its intensity.

I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him, calm him down maybe, but the touch is like a zap of electricity. His eyes drop to where my arm is before finding my eyes, and the look in them, paired with the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, tells me he felt it too.

“Elias...” His name is a breathy whisper. “You really should go inside.”

“Fuck. You.” The words come out quieter than before, but no less angry. His nostrils flare, eyes darkening, and before I know what’s happening, he palms the back of my neck, hauling me into him until our lips connect.

Alarm bells blare in my mind, and I know I should put a stop to this. Anybody could come outside and see us—including Valerie—and he’s drunk. So drunk. But the feel of his lips pressed against mine has fire spreading through my veins, and the bite of his nails digging into my nape sends a chill down my spine.

He feels so good. And it’s so wrong.

Elias’s lips part, and when my tongue tastes his, I can’t help the groan that escapes me.

The world seems to slow with this one kiss.

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