Page 51 of Wild Eyes
And I hate the feeling.
“You’re buying me a new phone,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“One week.”
“Come again?”
“One week with no phone.” He gestures his chin at me and smirks this obnoxious, self-satisfied smirk. “I dare you.”
“You dareme? The fucking nerve of you, Weston Belmont.” Cursing feels good, uncouth. For once, I don’t care what this person thinks of me.
“Yeah, bet you can’t go a week without buying one yourself.”
“Fuck you.” I let the f-bombs fly, each one releasing a weight from my shoulders as it sails from my lips.
His full mouth twists in a wry smirk. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”
I cross my arms and lean away. “It’s a safety issue.”
“So long as you don’t try to pet a wolf next, you should be fine.”
“There are wol—you know what, never mind. I have work to do.”
“And you are staying within walking distance of where you plan to do that work. Private property to private property, so no paparazzi. I’m sure you have a laptop, so if you’re really desperate for a fix, you’ll get it. You’re addicted. But I dare you to spend a week away from subjecting yourself to the opinions of random people who don’t know you. See how you feel.”
“Oh, right. Because you know me sooo fucking well now.”
He shrugs one shoulder and looks me over with a gentleness that feels completely unfamiliar. My wrath doesn’t scare him in the slightest. Doesn’t even seem to leave a bad taste in his mouth. “I don’t know you at all, but it feels like I do.”
This time, I don’t swear at him. Because that one sentence strikes me silent. He’s smug and confident and…not wrong. It feels like he knows me.
And thatis fucking terrifying.
We sip our drinks in peace after that. I silently take his bet, but I also don’t want to give him any more pieces of myself. My foundation feels shaky.
And I refuse to crumble.
Once I’m alone…I crumble.
I leave West’s truck without a word. Without looking back, I trudge woodenly through the trees. Unlock the front door of the shitty bunkhouse. Shut it and press myself flat against the wood. I kick my sandals across the room violently.
Then, where no one can see me, I fall apart in spectacular fashion.
I pace and laugh maniacally. I gasp for air that feels too thick to properly fill my lungs. I endure the pain in my throat that comes from forcing myself to stay quiet. To keep all my ugliest, most painful secrets tastefully tucked away. My heart races as though it wants to hammer its way out of my body and flop around on the floor like a fish out of water.
“Fuck…fuck…fuck…” I gasp the word while rubbing at my tight throat.
I feel like I want to get out of my own body. I don’t like it here, and my tender nose has nothing to do with the feeling.
For once, I might cry. Really cry. Like the scream, wail, and break shit kind of cry. My fingers itch to rip and throw stuff.
I’m sad, and I’m scared, but god…I’m also so fucking angry.
I don’t want to be an angry person—especially when I am so epically fortunate—but right now, I want to rage at the world.
“Fuck them.” I growl the words, thumping my palm on my chest. “Fuck everyone.”
“Fuck everyone!” Cherry wholeheartedly agrees.
