Page 54 of Waiting Forever
“I’ve been distant, and angry at myself for it. I wanted to make it up to you.” It was honest as fuck and scary as hell since I hadn’t intended to say all that.
She tucked strands of that burgundy hair behind her ear, giving me a view of her profile. Her brows were pulled together with clear confusion. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it.
I was making her uncomfortable and that wasn’t what I want. “Hope you’re in the mood for something sweet.” I changed the subject and pulled out of the campus, headed toward our destination.
“I’m always in the mood for something sweet.” She smiled and played with the ends of her hair as she gazed out the windshield. “Where are we going?”
“A farmhouse coffee shop and bakery just up the street. It’s similar to Sugarloaf but with a French twist. The menu isn’t as big, but the food is just as delicious.” I winked when she glanced at me.
“You had me at ‘French’.” She smiled and the weird tension I’d brewed up with my honesty faded away.
We had a great time. Like always, Kensi treated me to a food porn show as she enjoyed her pastry with moans of pleasure. That sweet tooth of hers will be the death of me.
I thought brunch had smoothed things over between us and we were back on track—until two hours ago when she dropped a nuclear bomb by telling me she had a date. With that guy!
Mother fucker.
I trip on the rug again, in the same spot as before, and let out a string of curses. Without thought, I punch the wall. My knuckles crack and burn. Pain shoots through my fingers. I haven’t punched a wall in months. What the fuck is wrong with me? I shake my hand and stalk to the door.
Kensington has me a wreck. One minute, I’m laughing and aroused. The next, I’m frustrated and ready to blow from sexual tension. Now, I’m punching walls. I need to get a grip.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I storm to the stairwell at the end of the hallway. I pull it from my jeans and read a text from Harper.
I’m coming over.
What the fuck? Can this night get any worse? I raise my hand to punch the wall again but think better of it. The last thing I need is to break a bone or two.
Instead, I send Harper a text.I won’t be here.
I need to talk to you.
Now isn’t a good time,I reply.
NATHAN! DON’T BE A DICK!
And that is one of the many reasons why I don’t miss her.
Fuck this. I toss my phone into a silver bowl on a side table and trample down the steps to the first floor.
Ice and a shot of liquor should help dull the pain and simmer my rage.
In the kitchen, I fill a cup with ice and set it on the counter. I wrap a few pieces in a towel and secure it over my knuckles, before heading to the bar.
I snatch the vodka and chug a shot straight from the bottle. My throat burns, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration blazing within. I used to be a happy guy. Nothing bothered me. My life was consistent until the day everything changed—and kept changing. Is that why I held onto Harper for as long as I did? She was familiar and all I had left of my past life?
Fuck me. I need to get over that.
I take another long pull from the bottle and hiss at the burn, although it isn’t as jolting as the first time.
“What are you doing?” Kensington’s sweet voice penetrates my skin, my chest—hell, my fucking soul.
I turn my head to look at her and lose my breath. She’s stunning, a vision of tan skin and legs that go on for days in a tight little white dress and strappy heels. Her burgundy hair is pulled over one shoulder, cascading to her waist, the color so bright next to the white of her dress. Even her blue eyes appear more vivid.
“Do you like it?” She does a slow turn. The back of the dress plungeslow.
My fingers ache to touch that smooth skin.
I set the vodka bottle on the table and stalk toward her, stopping a foot away from her delicious little body. “Do I like it?” I repeat her question. “No. I hate it. You should change.”
