Page 70 of When love and Hate Collide

What?She’s on a fucking date with that tool?

And just like that, what little appetite I had is gone. Shame too, because this salmon fillet is to die for. I set my fork down, wipe my mouth and chug the beer I’m drinking before ordering another from the waiter loitering by our table. When I finally look up, I catch Oz watching me, I stare back at him stoically and he smirks, shaking his head and shoves a mouthful of rice down his gullet.

My right leg shakes aggressively under the table while my body is slowly consumed by agitation with the thought of her out with another man. The chatter and noise of the other diners around me fades while I picture that fucker kissing and touching her. I almost pound my fist into the table and storm off out of the restaurant but catch myself and fist my hands under the table so hard my knuckles almost split instead.

Christ, JJ. What are you doing to me? I can’t even stand the thought of being around another girl and she’s off out on a date with some silk-stocking arsehole.

Fuck.

I can’t sit there and listen to everyone’s chatter about what they think Jeyla is up to on her date, I excuse myself and leave the restaurant, I need a smoke. I find a gift shop that sells cigarettes, buy myself a packet and sit outside overlooking the beach and smoke three, one after another, to calm the storm that’s whirring inside of me.

Why do I care so fucking much what she gets up to? She’s not my girlfriend, I’m not her boyfriend. We owe each other nothing, yet I feel like she’s out there cheating on me when that’s not even the case. Jeyla Jenkins is nothing more than a glorified fuck hole, so why is it jarring me so much that she’s out with another bloke and not here with me where she’s supposed to be?

Rapping my knuckles against the wooden balustrade I stare ahead at the ocean, my jaw clenched so tight it starts to ache. Three cigarettes and four shots of tequila later, I’m feeling less agitated and more than enticed to screw that salacious bitch out of my system.

The foam party is in full swing by eleven o’clock and Jeyla Jenkins has been shoved back into the deepest, obscurest corner of my mind. I’m staring into my glass of brandy, searching high and low for the answers I’m in desperate need of as if their at the bottom of the glass as my brother comes over and takes the seat beside me, slapping my shoulder and squeezing affectionately.

“D-Man, why so glum?”

I don’t bother lifting my eyes from my glass and lick my lips, “Not glum at all, just people watching and enjoying my brandy.” Oz orders himself a double brandy also and rests his forearms on the bar, regarding me closely, his brown eyes narrowed.

“She’s got you, hasn’t she?” He states knowingly and I sigh, feigning ignorance and take a sip of my drink and swallow, closing my eyes when the smooth liquid glides down my throat, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

“What are you on about? Who’s got me?” I reply after swallowing and give him a sidelong stare. My brother smirks and thanks the barman when he sets the brandy in front of him.

“Don’t play stupid with me, bro,” he says, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other when you think no one is watching. How Ash and Jess haven’t picked up on it yet I’ll never know, but let’s hope for both your sakes Ash remains oblivious, at least until the two of you figure out your feelings.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and wince inwardly when that pinch in my heart returns at the mention of my sister.

“What’s to figure out? I think our feelings are pretty clear and have been for the past seventeen years, bro.” Oscar laughs and spins in his stool to face me properly.

“Fucking hell, you’re swimming deep in sea of denial, aren’t you? You’re really going to sit there and deny that you’re sleeping with her?”

I shrug indifferently and sip my drink before replying, “Yeah, I fucked her, so what? It’s just sex, last time I checked we’re both adults fully capable of making our own choices.” Oz stiffens beside me and when I look at him, I find him glowering at me. The more I drink the more flagrant the bastard in me becomes. “Oh, sorry bro, did I ruin your picture-perfect perception of your little princess?” I snarl with a smug smirk. “She may look all innocent, but I assure you when those gorgeous long legs of hers are spread, she’s anything but.”

Oz glares at me hard, and I can taste the anger coming off him in oscillations. If I were any other guy and not his brother, he would sock me right in the mouth, hell so would I, but fuck it I’m in no mood for pleasantries and a heart to heart.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Dean.” He warns dourly, his fingers tightening around his glass, likely to stop himself from lashing out at me. “I think you’re getting Jeyla confused with those bitches you’re used to fucking and disposing. She may not be blood, but she’s as good as family, so you watch your mouth when you talk about her.”

I run my tongue over the front of my teeth and snort, “Not all of us are pussy whipped by your little golden girl,Oskie. She’s a good fuck, but that’s about all she’s got that interests me.” I knock my drink back when I see a redhead across the bar giving me some serious fuck me eyes that will serve as a very nice distraction. “So, you can sit here and keep pathetically pining after her like you stand a chance while I go and cry my woes into the chest of that tall glass of sin over there.” I give him a wink and slap his back in the same manner he did mine earlier and walk around the bar.

Yes, I’m a prick, but in that moment, I didn’t want to hear her name, let alone listen to my brother sing her fucking praises to me like the sap that he is. I sidle beside the redhead and smirk.

“I hope you taste as good as you look, sweetheart, because I’m starving.” I murmur in her ear, and she smiles sultrily, turning her deep chocolate eyes to peer up at me.

“Oh, I do, and you won’t find a taste that’s better than me, big boy.”I already have. I groan interiorly and bite back the urge to cringe. I’m going to need more alcohol.

Ten minutes of light petting with Nicshe—that’s her name, pronounced ‘Nee-shey’—I’m inebriated enough to not overthink the situation. I’m doing what I do best, avoiding my feelings. She’s the complete opposite to my usual taste but the fiery red hair and the tattoos on her thighs have me intrigued. I take her hand and lead her to the hotel.

I’m leaning against the wall by the elevator and she’s kissing my neck. I don’t feel a thing, not a trace of interest in me or my cock which is only semi-hard. Fuck! I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it. I grab hold of her shoulders and gently push her back. I open my mouth to tell her that I’m not feeling it when my peripheral vision picks up colour and I’m momentarily distracted. Across the lobby I see Jeyla standing there in a dark green mini dress that hugs her body in all the right places and makes her eyes stand out.

Standing beside her is that rich prick, his hand resting on her lower back while she watches me, and I watch her. Are they on their way up to her room? God, I feel sick. Jeyla’s eyes veer to Nicshe who has her hands resting on my chest. My eyes search hers and I swallow thickly when I can’t decipher the look in her eyes, there’s no anger, no resentment or jealousy she only shakes her head meekly, lowers her eyes from mine and laces her fingers with Julian’s as they walk toward us.

I push myself off the wall, my gaze fixed on her while she passes by me. The elevator bell dings, and the doors swing open. Julian nods at me in greeting and I almost lunge at him right there and then. Jeyla walks into the elevator and he follows her in and my stomach burns with rage.

“Are we going up?” Nicshe asks and I nod, placing my hand on the door when it starts to close and gesture for her to go in. Jeyla’s eyes snap up to mine, she looks stunned when I walk in with her and press the button to my floor.

The air in the elevator is thick with tension, so thick it’s stifling. Jeyla averts her gaze from mine to look up at Julian who smiles at her affectionately. My eyes narrow to slits, my hands fisting and un-fisting by my sides. Who the fuck do you think you’re smiling at? You priggish prick.

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