Page 57 of At My Worst

“It is in your head. I said I am fine,” he snaps back. “You don’t listen to what I say, do you?”

I fucking hate that. It is all in your head, Bianca. The way you are seeing it is wrong, Bianca.

Seriously he is making me feel like I am fucking crazy.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then trust my words, I am fine. Do you want me to be upset or mad?” He asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Okay then,” he says as he turns the TV back and picks up his phone.

I take a deep breath and turn my head, watching whatever show he is watching.

None of this feels okay.

I take a deep breath as I continue to walk down the sidewalk. The sky is filled with clouds, which means it is going to rain again, washing away any evidence of the day. The night will take over soon, giving me a peaceful escape. Alexander will help me to escape within him. This place is breathtaking, but Alexander, he is all fucking consuming.

I wrap the jacket around me tighter, trying to keep in my body heat as I push open the bar doors. I look ahead at the bar and stop dead in my tracks.

Alexander has his hand around Brittany’s throat. She is resting both of her hands on the edge of the bar counter, staring at him.

They both turn and look at me. Alexander’s eyes widened, and Brittany’s were filled with amusement.

“Bianca,” he whispers as he releases her throat and steps back. Birttany chuckles, keeping her eyes on me.

“Hun, he will always come back to what he knows,” she says with amusement.

The tears build in my eyes as I turn and push the door back open. I hear Alexander yell my name, but I don’t stop. No,instead, I take off running down the parking lot where we first fucked at.

“Bianca!” He yells from behind me, but I keep running to my house.

I run up the stairs, grab the doorknob, turn it, and push the door open. I keep it open. He will come in anyway. I walk down the hallway towards my bedroom, turn on the light, go to the closet, and grab my suitcase.

I am so fucking stupid.

Dark romance comes to life, my ass. My fucking ass.

The tears escape my eyes and roll down my face as I set the suitcase on the bed, turn, and make my way over to my dresser. I open each drawer and grab the clothes.

I turn and see Alexander standing in the doorway. His hair is wet from the rain that has started to fall, and his hands are fisted at his side.

“Let me explain,” he begs.

My heart is beating so fucking fast right now I can hear it in my ears. Maybe I do owe him, maybe I should let him explain, but all I can see is his hand on her throat, the look in her eyes, the amusement of me walking in on them.

“No, get out,” I say, my voice filled with rage and pain, pain I don’t want him to hear, but it is too late.

He takes several steps inside my room as I storm over to the suitcase and throw my clothes in it. I turn back to grab more, but he is standing in front of me now. His salty scent fills my nose as I look at him, and more tears escape my eyes as he rapidly searches mine.

“Bianca, it is not what it looked like, I promise,” he pleads.

He promises. I hate those words. I fucking hate that word. Promises are always breakable. It is just another empty word.

“Words, words, empty fucking words!” I scream as I push him, but he doesn’t move. I keep my hands on his chest for amoment, the warmth from his strong, powerful body starting to spread across my skin. The pain, the throbbing ache in my chest, increases as I slowly lower them to my sides.

I hate how painful it is for me to remove my hands from his chest. I hate how his being this close brings me joy and makes me want to cry.

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