Love the way you taste.
Forget Viola. You’re mine.
I almost choke on the piece of pizza I’m chewing. Why the hell does she know my name? Or know of meat all?
I flip over the last one that reads,The other night was perfect!
I flip it back over to her making kissy lips as she blows one to the camera.What the hell?The other night? Which other night? The night when I lost myself to his touch? The other night when he undressed me and put me in bed? The other night when he went all caveman about Jason? The same night he smelled like another woman’s perfume.
It suddenly begins to make sense.
Just when I think I’m finally cracking him, something like this happens, and I’m reminded of who he really is—a player who has a different woman for each day of the week. The feelings haveneverbeen mutual, and he’s always made that very clear.
It takes me back to our teenage years when all I wanted was him, while he was out having everyone else. I should’ve never romanticized the thought of him or allowed him to touch me. The images of him with her make me sick to my stomach. It’s a familiar feeling that I know all too well.
Hurt and anger boil inside me as I think of the way I felt back then and how I feel it again.
It’s because I know panties and pictures aren’t something a one-night stand sends to a doorstep as a gift. Travis is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to mess around with a girl at work when he knows it could jeopardize everything he’s worked for, but maybe that’s giving him too much credit. We’re talking about Travis King—thinks only with his dick in mind and nothing else.
I grab my cell and snap a single picture of the images scattered across the table and send him a text.
Viola: You disgust me, Travis.
I turn off my phone before he can send a reply because I don’t care anymore. I don’twantto care anymore. As I sit at the table and stare at the blank wall, I remember being so in love with him. I was a stupid girl with a stupid crush, but even then, I deserved more.
When Travis started dating, I felt like my insides were being ripped into a million little pieces. I couldn’t stand to hear the girl’s name, and I didn’t want to see them together. So, I made it my mission to avoid him as much as possible. I thought I was strong enough to play his game, but I’m only allowing myself to get hurt again. For just a small fraction of time, in some fucked-up sort of way, I thought I was maybe more than just another notch on his “girls I made come” bedpost.
I place the pizza box in the fridge and leave my books where they are. After turning off all the lights, I go straight into Drew’s room and lock the door. I shouldn’t give two shits about what or who Travis does, and starting now, I’ll avoid him just like old times. It’s better for me that way, even if that means hanging out in the coffee shop that’s close to campus until bedtime.
There’s only eleven more days left of spring break, but I’m one heartache away from packing my bags and staying with my mom and her boyfriend. Then he can have all the wild sex he wants, and I won’t be around to witness it. I learned long ago that it’s better to face your problems than to run from them. But just because I’m facing Travis doesn’t mean I have to talk to him.
No more games.
No more being nice.
He’s officially cut off.
The old familiar feelings–jealousy and hatred–linger, and the realization that we could never be just friends sets in. I was stupid to even consider it could be a possibility. I hoped things would be different, but that’ll never happen, and I hate him even more for giving me hope and then snatching it away.
Chapter 16
Travis
I’m not sure which is more distracting.
The choking sound Alyssa Crawford makes when she’s deep throating my cock or envisioning Viola Fisher on her knees in front of me.
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter.
After lunch, I silence my phone and hustle until four p.m. when Alyssa prances her little ass into my office.
“What do you want?” I ask.
She sways her hips and takes a seat on the edge of my cluttered desk. “I came to see if you wanted to have dinner tonight. We could write it off as a work expense.” She grins, twirling a black credit card in her fingers.
“I’m under the gun. Blake has doubled my workload,” I say without looking back up at her.
“Oh, come on, baby. You can take a little break.” Her baby voice makes my ears bleed. “You can’t be all work and no play.”
