Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Samson glances at Cohen and then with a sharp nod to him, and a wink to me, he walks out leaving us alone.
I’m not sure why he did that, frankly, I’m not sure I want to be alone with Cohen.
We’re both drunk.
We just fucked.
We can’t stand each other.
Cohen walks toward me, jeans still unbuttoned, his eyes on my forehead. With a husky, sexed up voice, he asks, “Did I do that?”
I press my fingers to the bruise that I haven’t yet looked at on my forehead, but I can certainly feel. “Yeah.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have laid hands on you. Not that kind of man.”
Isn’t he, though?
I shake my head, not letting the dark thoughts creep back in. Those thoughts consume my life, it’s nice to have a break from them, just for a small moment.
It’s nice to stand in this room and not feel raw hatred for the man in front of me.
“All good,” I say, my voice husky and breathy.
“What just happened here ...”
“It didn’t mean anything, Cohen,” I say, my voice a little harder now. “It was sex, fucking, I’m not about to soften and try to attach myself to you.”
“Wasn’t what I was goin’ to say,” he mutters.
Right.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? You and I can’t stand each other, we had a bit of fun, that’s the end of it.”
“Is that really how you fuckin’ feel, Aviana?”
His question shocks me, not because I hadn’t thought of that, but because when he asks it, I struggle for an answer.
My automatic answer should be yes, that really is how I feel. Yet I find myself struggling to say it.
Why can’t I say those few simple words? They’re the truth, right?
“I don’t know what I feel,” I murmur, and that’s the god honest truth.
“We were friends.”
“Yeah, we were.”
“Good friends, fuck, more ...”
“We were never more, Cohen.”
He studies me. “You never felt anything more than friendship?”
My heart strings and I have to stop, I have to back off, I have to make this conversation end right now.
I can’t handle the feelings that come with it.
The blinding truths.
“It doesn’t matter what I felt,” I say, my voice hard. “What matters is right here and now, and the fact is that if you felt anything for me, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You know where I stand, Cohen.”
With that, I turn and walk out of the room.
If I look in his eyes for a second longer, I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret.
Like maybe ... the truth.
RUBBING MY HEAD, I walk into the kitchen the next morning with a pounding headache. God only knows what time it is, but I do know I didn’t get home until the early hours of the morning. I partied way too hard, and now I’m regretting it. The light burns my eyes as I round the corner, and I stop when I see Briella, Waverly, and another girl standing against the counter, chatting.
When I walk in, they stop that chatting.
“Don’t mind me,” I mumble. “Just getting water.”
“How did you pull up?” Waverly asks. “I’m guessing not so great. Me either, god, how much did we drink?”
“Way too much.”
“Aviana,” Briella says, her tone hard. “This is my sister, Cova. I’m sure you’ve heard the story by now, I don’t need to tell it to you again.”
Briella’s voice is a whip and I know she’s angry at me. I’ve been a bitch to her, and that does bother me, but I’m doing it to protect myself, to protect her. If she hates me, it’s a whole lot easier than if she makes me feel the connection we once had. I fight against what’s right and wrong, and a softer part of me wants to apologize.
I’m forgetting why I’m here.
Every single second I’m back, I feel like I’m at home again and the past slowly creeps away.
My anger slowly fades.
That utterly terrifies me.
“Yeah, I’ve heard. How are you, Cova?”
Cova studies me. “You’re the one causing all the chaos in the club?”
“Something like that,” I murmur, getting a glass and filling it with water.
“Waverly told us some of what you told her,” Briella says, her voice a little less pissy now.
I look to Waverly. “Seriously?”
Waverly gives me a stern expression. “Don’t get angry at me, I’m doing it to help you. I don’t think they all realize what you’ve been through and they should...they need to know.”
“They don’t need to know shit,” I growl. “Nobody gives a crap what happened to me, or what Cohen did, or anything else that came with it.”
“You didn’t seem too angry at Cohen last night,” Briella snaps, her voice harsh.
I glance at her, eyes narrowed. “You watching me?”
“I heard you, everyone heard you. Then we saw all three of you leave the room. What are you playing at, Avi? It’s like you just don’t care, even about yourself.”