Page 112 of Devious Love
I take another drag of the joint. Her scent still lingers in my apartment, above the weed and tobacco and pizza. My body still remembers the weight of her on top of me. My palms twitch, remembering how soft her curves were under my touch.
Those memories are quickly replaced by the image of her face tonight. I ruined everything. She hates me. She’ll never want to look at me again.
It was exactly what I wanted. Now, the world is in balance again. I can’t take from her any longer, and with any luck, Monica will leave her alone.
Maybe I should’ve realized how wrecked I’d feel, but it rattles me to my core. I don’t know if I’ll survive this.
Hauling myself up, I put out the joint and shuffle to bed. Without undressing, I fall face first onto the mattress and close my eyes, praying for a dreamless night.
But karma is a bitch, and Mia Ashton lives in my mind. Though I broke her heart, in my dreams, she still belongs to me.
Cool,calm, and collected—at least on the outside—I lean against my Tahoe, waiting for Mia to exit the building. On the inside? I’m dead. My heart has shattered, and there’s nothing left of me. Her class starts in a few minutes. She should be here anytime.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and ball them into fists to keep my fingers from trembling.
The sound of footsteps draws my attention to a group of people walking down the sidewalk. Mia, Chiara, Jeff, and Tessa.They walk toward the building, Mia’s friends chatting away. Mia, though, is silent, her focus fixed ahead. Chiara notices me first, and her eyes flare. She knows what I did, that’s clear, and from the look on her face, she’s not my biggest fan.
Welcome to the club. I’m not a fucking fan of me either.
When Mia sees me, she stops in her tracks.
Chiara tugs on her hand. “Please. You don’t have to talk to him.”
But Mia shakes her off and peels away from the group, heading for me. Her lips are pursed into a thin line, but the rest of her expression is unreadable, as if nothing bothers her. Fuck, it hurts to see her like this.
Because I know she’s hurting on the inside, that she doesn’t feel safe showing her emotions.
Because she’s still mine.
She’s still everything I want.
But I can’t have her, and it’s for the best.
She stops in front of me, her arms folded over her chest. We lock eyes, but not a single emotion passes behind her irises.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, voice even. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not reach for her, to not haul her into my chest and beg for her forgiveness.
I did the right thing.
I know it.
“I saw Remi last night, and I realized how much I missed her,” I continue, as if the lie doesn’t feel like poison. “I’m not over her. I never was.”
For an instant, Mia’s eyes flicker, and I swear there’s pain. But then she blinks, and there’s nothing. The look she gives me is cold and dull.
“That’s all?” she asks.
I ball my hands tighter, torn between sending a fist through the driver’s window of my Tahoe and throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home.
“I think it’s better if we don’t see each other.”
She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Okay.”
I frown, my mask crumbling. The knife in my heart twists when I realize she’s not going to show even an ounce of anger. She won’t demand an explanation or lob insults. Emotionally, she’s absent. That pains me more than anything—the thought that I wrecked her so completely, she’s dissociated from her emotions. Have I pushed her past the point of no return? Fuck, I hope not. All I want is for her to be happy.
Without another word, she turns and rejoins her friends. And, hopelessly, I watch them walk into the building.
When I stepinto the shop twenty minutes later, Dad and Miles are already here, working on a black Jeep. Thankful they’re occupied, I head straight for my locker, keeping my head down.
