Page 62 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
He raises his head and releases his grip on my face, then he lifts my T-shirt and sees what I’ve done. My breasts are coated in his come. For a second, he stares at me, like he can’t believe I would do something like that.
Then his gaze darkens like a deathly shadow just fell over him and he quickly shoves himself back inside his pants and buttons up the fly.
“I guess we’re even now.”
I step back at his sharp tone.
“What?” I whisper.
“You won this one, but I won the last.”
“Do you think this is a game?” I ask, my voice pitching higher.
His teeth grind together. “Not so much of a game, more of a stand-off.”
Something inside my chest hardens. He just let me do all that to him so he could geteven? For a moment there, I thought we were playing at this game of hate, but, as he’s just clarified, this is no game. He really does hate me.
And how do I feel?
Mortified. Embarrassed. Exploited.
Hateis too small a word.
And words are too generous a form of communication.
We’re still standing by the door so I feel for the handle without taking my eyes off his, then I pull the door open and step outside, leaving him with nothing but a sneer for company.
Contessa
I run down the steps, ignoring his instruction to have his damn driver take me home. Then I slam the door to the street and march to the subway, fighting back tears.
The night is closing in and there’s a chill in the air as I run underground to get my train. When I emerge at Grand Central I dig out my phone to call Allegra to see if she can give me a ride. For once I don’t want someone’s ‘men’ to collect me from the station in Port Washington; I just want people who are real and won’t lie to me because I’m a pawn in some chess game.
I swipe the screen and a half dozen notifications pop up. Text messages, phonecalls and VMs—all from Paige. Instead of reading and listening I hit the green button and wait for her to answer.
“There you are! I’ve been tryingto get ahold of you since class.” I thank the good lord she can’t see the blush flood my cheeks at the memory of where I’ve been, or the scowl that chases it.
“Sorry Paige, my cell was at the bottom of my purse and I just got off the subway.”
“I was calling to see if you wanted to come out this evening. My friend has just started working at a cool bar in the city and he can get me and one other onto the guest list. This is your chance to redeem yourself after standing me up the other day.” She finishes on a giggle.
“Okay… Um, maybe.”
“Where are you?” Her voice is threaded with excitement and it’s infectious.
“Grand Central.”
“Shoot. Can you get to Brooklyn College? I could collect you and bring you back here and we can get ready together. What do you think?”
My initial reaction is to say no, because just the thought of socializing with people I barely know tires me out, but the sting of Bernadi’s rejection is still so acute I can feel it across every inch of my flesh. I want to be rid of it, and what more satisfying a way to do that than by spending a night out dressed innext to nothing—something I now know Bernadi would hate.
“What about my clothes and make-up? I don’t have anything with me.”
Her voice dips. “Babe, I have enough for both of us, and half the street.”
“Then, that sounds amazing,” I reply. “Only ifyou’re sure, though? I don’t want you to have to go out of your way—I can probably hail a?—”
“On my way!” I hear a set of keys jangle and a door bang shut. “I’m not far from that station at all—I’ll see you there.”
