Page 45 of The Tangle of Awful

I did that.

I fucking hurt her.

Facing that reality finally has my dick settling down. Sure, I could rub one out in the bathroom, lingering in the fantasy come to life just moments before, but it would be lacking in comparison. It’d feel cheap and not at all pleasurable.

My dick needs to stay in my pants and I need to start treating Aubrey like the beautiful, bright, brilliant woman she is.

This shit stops now.

Aubrey

Humiliated doesn’t even begin to describe the way I’m feeling right now. Sure, I’m embarrassed, but I’m also angry and devastated. I didn’t misread the situation. Hugo was into everything we were doing. I’d felt how hard he was. There’s no mistaking when you’re sitting on a giant cock.

I’d read his signals—the pure, unfiltered want blazing in his eyes being the most telling. He wanted to touch me and I’d wanted it too.

What went wrong?

I think back to the way I’d sucked on his bottom lip, aching to do so much more. He’d gone still at that moment and didn’t kiss me back.

Crap.

Did I mess up everything then?

I’d tried to get him to kiss me back, but he’d remained still, and then it was like he snapped out of a lust-filled haze, returning to reality without me.

He dismissed me so easily.

I’m so confused by the entire encounter.

This was different than with any man I’ve been with before. In LA, there weren’t emotions or history involved. It was just following what felt good, uncaring of the consequences.

With Hugo, there are consequences. And I broke my vow to leave him alone. I was never supposed to go there with him because he’s not like those guys in California. He’s different—better—someone special to me.

Shame has bile creeping up my throat. What’s wrong with me? I go after these older men because it feels good to be seen and adored, but I’m destroying everyone’s lives in the process.

I’m a broken girl.

The thought of riding in the car with Hugo after work makes my skin crawl. I can’t deal with how awkward that will be. If I had a car of my own, I could just get in and drive far, far away from here. Away from the Parks, away from my past again, away from the baggage of my uncaring mother.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I order an Uber. Then, I escape my hiding spot in the women’s restroom. Hugo’s door is still closed, much to my relief, and I’m able to snatch up my purse without incident.

“Where are you going?” Karla asks, glancing at the clock on the wall behind me. “It’s not five yet.”

“Stomach bug,” I hiss. “Hope you don’t get it too.”

Her face sours as she absently grabs for her hand sanitizer. “Feel better soon.”

Not likely.

My stomach is in knots and is a complete mess, but until I can figure out how to stop sabotaging my own life, it’ll probably be that way for a while yet.

I need a friend. Someone to talk to. A shoulder to cry on.

Spencer is not that friend. I know he’s sitting in his giant house, like the dark lord of everyone else’s pain he is, waiting for me to come inside so he can further torment me. Not interested. Before I reach the front door, I turn on my heel, heading straight for Gemma’s house.

The door opens, moments later, to my beautiful friend. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shiny, while her makeup is artfully applied. She’s perfectly put together and I’m splitting apart from the inside out. The smile on her face falls immediately upon taking in my expression.

“Can we hang out?” I squeak out, hating how vulnerable and needy I sound. “Please.”

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