Page 1 of Tainted Rose

Xander

The hurt flickering in Scarlett’s bright-blue eyes almost does me in, and the trembling of her body makes me want to take back every last brutal word I’d spewed at her. I want to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, tell her I fucked up, to forget everything I said and get back into bed with me so I can show her how I feel. Anything to wipe that look off of her face. It’s gutting me.

But I don’t say any of that. Because, dammit, I’m not doing this to her, I’m doing it for her. I need her to leave—to walk out of this room and out of my life. I need her to run far away from me and never look back. If she doesn’t believe everything I just spit at her, I’m in real trouble. We’re in real trouble.

Her face slowly crumples right before my eyes, her cheeks flaming the most brilliant red as the vicious words slam through my mind over and over. Look, you’re a great fuck, Red, but that’s all this was to me. Get the fuck out.

I rise from the bed, my muscular body towering over her, attempting to intimidate her. Pulling in some air, I let it expand my chest as I force a stare at her, feigning as much hatred as I can muster.

She clutches the clothing I’d thrown at her against her naked body, lips quivering as she continues to stare back at me in shock. “I don’t understand. What hap—”

“Get. The fuck. Out,” I snarl in a tone that should strike fear into her.

A mask slips down over my features, allowing me to continue what I need to do without cracking. My voice sounds like grit and gravel to my ears. “I got exactly what I wanted from you. This was all a fucking game for me to see if I could get you to hate me, then turn around and make you fall for me against your better judgment. Every kiss, every lick, every suck, every fuck was fake, Red. The two of us? We were never anything. But just in case you believed there was something between us—whatever you thought we had, it’s over. Take your needy, pathetic ass out of here.”

I’ve never felt like such a lowlife piece of shit as I do right this minute watching a rogue tear slip down her cheek. I want to tug her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. But I can’t. If what I found means what I think it could, she needs to be far away from me and this house. She can’t know.

I never should have brought her here.

Never should have let her get this close.

Never should have fallen for her courage, strength, and beautiful heart.

Scarlett pulls her top over her head with unsteady hands and jams her arms into the sleeves. Her eyes dart around for a few seconds, looking for her panties no doubt, before she forgoes them and fitfully yanks her skinny jeans up her legs and fastens them.

When she looks up at me, her eyes blaze. “Xander, I will never, ever forgive you for this.”

With that, she snatches her phone out of my hands. For a few seconds we lock eyes, and I begin to reach for her, my resolve fading.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

She whirls around and stalks over to the couch where she’d left her shoes and bag on the floor. She gathers her things, flips me off over her shoulder, and storms out of my bedroom without so much as a backward glance.

My entire body sags once she’s gone. With my hands to my head, I pull on my hair in frustration. If only she knew ...

I hate myself. I hate that I did this to her, put that anguished look on her face, that distrust in her eyes. With a sick sigh of regret, I pick my joggers up off the floor—the same ones Scarlett had peeled from her body a few minutes ago—and pull them up my legs. Talk about fucking torture. But you deserve every ounce of punishment. And when she doles it out, like she probably will, you’ll take it. You deserve her hatred.

It won’t stop me from doing what I need to, though.

It can’t.

After a few attempts at the beginning of the school year at scaring Scarlett off, it’d quickly become obvious that my girl doesn’t frighten easily. I drop my head back and laugh maniacally all alone in my room. My girl. Except you fucked that all up, didn’t you? You pulled her close to mess with her, you fucking fell for her, and then you threw it all away. I shake my head. I can’t see any other way to do this—to keep them all safe.

Clawing guilt rips at my stomach. I’ve taken the one thing in my life that’s going right and thrown it all away.

She’s the reason why this year hasn’t been a boring repeat of every other year.

She’s why I get up in the morning.

She’s made me feel things I never have before.

But you know you can’t have her, you asshole. This was all supposed to be a way to eventually force her to leave, and now I’ve gone and blown it. Big-time. Because she might actually leave now—which was the goal—but she’ll be taking a huge-ass chunk of my dark heart with her.

I race out of my room and tear down the steps in search of alcohol. I’m not making it through tonight sober, that’s for fucking sure. There’s not enough booze in this house to make me forget what I’ve done, and that’s really saying something.

When I enter the kitchen, I flick the lights on as I pass the switch. The reddish-brown of my stepdad’s hair glints in the light from the fixtures over the kitchen island. He swirls his whiskey around before taking a careful sip, holding it in his mouth before he swallows. He glances up from his drink and nods once in my direction. “Your girlfriend seems nice.” His words come out cool and collected. “Left awfully quickly, though.”

I ignore his comment about Scarlett. He never should have fucking met her. “What are you doing sitting down here in the dark?” I grunt, leaning back against the counter. My head has begun to pound.

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