Page 113 of Collision
My lips twist as I give a bitter laugh. “For what? For saying that I don’t matter? For making it clear that having me around was a pain in the ass?” I slip on a shoe angrily. “For asking me to courier messages to your fuck buddy, who never misses an opportunity to treat me like shit? Which, by the way, you know very well?” I put on the other shoe. “Or was it for letting me know that you were going to fuck her the minute you kicked me out?” I glare at him.
Thomas runs a hand through his hair bitterly. “For all of that. I was an asshole, and I shouldn’t have been.” He sighs, looking into my eyes. “I didn’t do anything with her. I sent her away as soon as you left.”
I gather my still-damp hair and put it in a high ponytail. “I don’t care; you’re free to do whatever you want.” My voice sounds cold and detached, but just the thought of that stupid girl’s mouth touching his sends a rush of hot blood to my head. Knowing it didn’t happen does soothe me.
“I know I am,” he says with his usual swagger.
“Actually, I feel sorry for her. Imagine going to all that effort for nothing. Must be a hard pill to swallow,” I say testily, smoothing the bed covers with feigned nonchalance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him trying to hold back a laugh. “You feel sorry for her, do you?”
“Very.”
“Don’t. She’ll be luckier next time.”
I suddenly fall silent. “I don’t like leaving horny girls unsatisfied in front of my door.” I open my mouth, ready to yell at him, but then I think better of it. I struggle to push myself off the bed and leave, but heholds me down by the wrists. “Where are you going?” he asks, stopping me with an amused smirk.
“You’re disgusting and I can’t stand you, Thomas. I cannot stand you at all!”
“What’s the matter? You’re not jealous, are you?” The smug way he says it irritates me to my core. He knows that I am, yet he torments me mercilessly.
“Jealous? Me? Of a bitch whose only ambition in life is to crawl into your bed?” I shrug. “You know I don’t care.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window to my right. When Thomas tries to touch my face, I brush his hand away with my forearm. “Don’t touch me,” I growl, offended.
For some strange reason, my response makes him chuckle.
“The last time a girl crawled into my bed, she was drunk and desperate.” Is he referring to me? Has he forgotten all the times I’ve watched him stick his tongue down another girl’s throat in the last few weeks? Does he really expect me to believe that he hasn’t been with anyone since our night together? Does he honestly think I’m that stupid?
“I suppose that happens to you frequently,” I say, still avoiding his eyes.
“No, not that often. Usually they’re clearheaded and pretty excited,” he says, pleased with himself. He gets so much joy out of torturing me. He moves closer to my ear, pressing his hands against my thighs. I try to ignore the surge of heat that his touch kindles in me, but I get lost in the low whisper of his voice, shivering as he speaks. “I haven’t had a proper fuck in I don’t know how long. Every goddamned thought that pops into my brain is focused on just one girl.”
I stare at him in dismay. Does he actually have the nerve to come here and tell me that…he’s fallen for someone else?
I push him away more firmly. “You just keep hurting me, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it. It’s getting late, I have to go.” I try to get up again but he stops me and forces me back down, again.
“What did I say wrong now?” he asks, genuinely confused. I do notanswer. I turn my head away from him, trying not to cry like an idiot. He looks down for a few seconds, then shakes his head with a smile.
“Look, you misunderstood…”
“You’ve been very clear: you’ve fallen head over heels for someone else. I’m so happy for you, thank you for letting me know.”
“First of all, I haven’t fallen for anyone. I said that a girl occupies all my thoughts; that’s different. Second, let me try get something straight: Who do you think I’m talking about?”
I goggle at him, incredulous.
“I don’t know, Thomas! You want us to sit down and gossip over milkshakes like old friends?” I snap.
“You just don’t get it.” His expression, resigned and vulnerable at the same time, bewilders me. “Forget it. It’s not the reason I’m here. I don’t like that you saw me in that condition, nor do I like the way I treated you this morning. You didn’t do anything to deserve it, except worry about me.” He rubs my knee and looks into my eyes with such intensity that all my barriers are dissolved.
“It won’t happen again. I’ve learned my lesson,” I say waspishly.
“I like that you care about me, it’s just that…” he mutters, looking at the floor. “I’m not used to it.”
It breaks my heart to see him so fragile. How is it possible that I was so angry at him until just a few seconds ago and now all I want to do is hug him tightly? Instead, I take a deep breath. I place two fingers under his chin and lift his face so I can look him in the eyes.
“Is this how you do it? First you pull some crap and then you beg for forgiveness, playing the poor, misunderstood boy?” I fold my arms over my chest and frown. “Tell me, how many girls have you bagged this way?”
