Page 8 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

“Well… See you,” she murmured before taking off out of the room and away from me.

Forever.

“Stupid,” I hissed under my breath. I was so incredibly—

“Wow. That was just plain painful to watch.” Rush stopped next to me and whistled under his breath. “Bud, you really suck at this shit.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, punching him in the shoulder. “Give me my phone back.”

He let me grab it from his hand without a fight, which told me one thing. He wasn’t going to make fun of me. Hell, he probably wasn’t even going to tell the others about my epic failure of a conversation. Because the bastard felt sorry for me.

Which was so much worse than getting heckled.

“Never fear, my friend,” he said, throwing an arm around my shoulders as he ushered me toward the door. “I can help you. By the end of the week, I’ll have you sweet-talking your way into her panties like you were born a fucking Casanova. You just trust ol’ Rush here. I am the love doctor, and I got your back.”

“Or how about you just fucking kill me now,” I uttered.

Because I was doomed.

I was never going to grow enough courage to really talk to her. And all the what-ifs were going to haunt me forever.

2

Haven

My eyes!

Oh God, my eyes had lost their ability to see correctly, because I had to be seeing things. A mirage, or hallucination…or something. That’s all there was to it.

Because I absolutely refused to believe what my brain was trying to tell me that my eyes seriously thought they saw.

No other way could my boyfriend of three years be inside my dorm, naked, with my roommate—also naked—as he gripped her hair hard enough from behind to cant her head back at an awkward angle while he pounded into her ass on, yes, my fucking couch that he’d helped me pick out this summer and haul up two flights of stairs to move into this very apartment.

But why would my eyes play those kinds of evil tricks on me? That was just cruel and unusual punishment. Did they hate me for some reason? Had I pissed them off for staying up late one night too many, straining them to exhaustion as I’d squinted at my laptop and furiously tried to finish papers I had due the next day? They thought they’d get their revenge on me and play this kind of horrible game, telling me I was seeing things that in no way could actually be real.

The couple on the couch startled in surprise when I accidentally alerted them to my presence by losing my grip on the two grocery sacks I was holding, which crashed loudly to the floor by my feet.

Annabeth glanced over her shoulder and screamed when she saw my silhouette in the doorway. Grabbing a throw pillow—also mine—she desperately tried to cover her bouncing breasts, while Topher yanked himself from her body to spin my way and flash me with a disturbing view of his dick that was still hard and wet from dipping itself inside Annabeth.

“Oh, fuck! Haven!” he cried in guilty despair, covering his junk with both hands as if to prove no misdeeds had been going on here. Nothing to see, just two people hanging out on a couch, all chill and relaxed. It was just total happenstance they both happened to be naked and their privates had been connecting…repeatedly. No biggie.

“Baby, I can explain.”

Well, hell. Now my ears were in on the conspiracy because that sure sounded like my boyfriend’s voice as he flew off the couch, away from Annabeth.

But what had I done to piss off my ears into making me hear things that weren’t real? I didn’t play music too loudly or attend eardrum-bursting concerts. I swear I even kept the volume in my earbuds at a nice, moderate level. Why would my ears betray me like this, too?

It must be my eyes, going behind my back and tempting my ears over to the dark side. Yeah. Let’s fuck up Haven’s life and make her see and hear things that aren’t real. It’ll be fun.

Bastards.

Topher staggered toward me, stretching out a hand, his eyes filled with concern and apology. I jerked a step back, freaking out, because what if he touched me and I actually felt him? Two senses turning on me and playing tricks on my mind I could buy, but if a third joined the game…? I don’t know. That would make this feel a little too real. And if this was real, then… Then my boyfriend of three fucking years was cheating on me. In my apartment. With my roommate. On my goddamn couch!

That’s when it happened. Sensory receptor number three kicked in, and my nose perked to attention, sniffing out the scent of sex.

“Oh, God,” I uttered, backing away and shaking my head in denial.

I saw it, I heard it, I smelled it. That was empirical evidence right there; this was very much happening.

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