What a fucking asshole. Not even twenty-four hours ago, he was hanging out with me, smokingmyweed, kissing me.
And the smug fucking look on his face when he saw me watching them…Asshole!
It’s infuriating how hurt I feel by this. It shouldn’t be this way. I barely know him, but despite all that, I feel this pull toward him, this undeniable connection. That’s how it always is with me, though, isn’t it? Always falling hard, attaching to the wrong people who definitely donotfeel the same about me, only to get hurt in the end. Since I was little, I’ve always worn my silly little heart on my sleeve, desperately wanting people to want me the way I want them, want me around the way I want them around.
My eyes keep darting to the entrance of the building, waiting for him—or them—to walk in here, but it never happens. My entire meal passes in a blur. I’m so fucking angry.
First, he’s insanely rude to me. Practically kicks me out of his room. Then he comes to my room a few days later, acting like nothing happened and being uncharacteristically nice to me, and now this.
It’s a game to him.
I’m a game.
Fuck that. And fuck him.
By the time I make it back outside, it’s raining.Correction—it’s pouring.I’m soaked by the time I make it back to the resident building. Taking the elevator up, I practically stomp down the halls, and when I pass Caspian’s room, I tell myself I won’t do it.
I’m not going to knock on his door.
I’m not going to give him the time of day.
Fuck him.
He’s an asshole.
But it’s as if my mind and body aren’t on speaking terms, because before I know it, my fist is pounding on his door, my heart hammering behind my chest as I wait to see if he answers.
Is he in there alone?
Is he even in there at all?
Eventually, though, right as I’m about to give up and go to my own room, the door is swung open, his huge body taking up the doorway, signature bored-as-ever expression on his face. He doesn’t say hello. Doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me.
“Um, hello?” I finally blurt out, waving my hand in front of his face.
“What?”
I scoff, the lava of anger steadily rising inside of me, about ready to boil over. “What? That’s all you have to fucking say?”
“Well, what the fuck did you expect?” he asks, deadpan. “A welcome party?”
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“No.”
Rolling my eyes, I fold my arms over my chest. “Why not? That girl in here?”
Caspian’s brows knit together. “What fucking girl?”
“The one from the restaurant. Did you fuck her?” I ask, vaguely aware of how fucking insane I sound, but the words fly out of my mouth like vomit anyway. “Is she in there right now, naked, with you dripping out of her?”
I’m basically hysterical, the pitch of my voice rising with every syllable.
“Aww, is Rowan jealous?” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, the words spoken in a baby voice, like he’s directing the question to a toddler. It infuriates me. “Do you wish it was you pinned beneath me, getting fucked into the mattress instead?”
“Fuck you,” I spit out, well aware I didn’t deny it.
“You fucking wish, don’t you, princess?” His lip ticks up into a crooked grin, like he finds great pleasure in pissing me off.
