He’s a big slut too.
“What are you doing here?” I say through gritted teeth, just as his eyes swing to Jensen. I steady myself by clutching on to the wooden rail. Woooo.
He winks at Jensen. “Actually, not for you. Where’s Nellie?” I try not to let the way he dismisses my encounter with Jensen affect me. This is what I always wanted, to not have his attention, so why does it bother me so much anyway?
“She’s in the house.” I lean against the railing, which puts me right in front of Jensen. If I wriggled back just a little farther, my ass cheeks would hit his crotch. “What is Nellie to you anyway?”
“Ahhh,” Jensen says, his hand coming to my hip. Instantly, Royce’s eyes snap to where they flex.
The harsh lines around his eyes soften as he quickly composes himself. He takes a step forward, his messy military boot hitting the tip of my Givenchy. The heat pouring from his body is enough to ignite an angry inferno. Or maybe I’m drunk.
He leans down until the tip of his nose touches the side of my temple. Jensen’s grip tenses around my sharp hipbone. “Mmmm,” Royce growls softly, his warm breath touching the skin on my face. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Duchess.” At the simple drop of my nickname, my insides solidify.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Why does his voice suddenly sound familiar?
You’re drunk.
I step backward, forgetting that Jensen is right there, so obviously, my ass hits the apex of his fucking thighs. “Nellie’s in the house.”
“Who is this?” Jensen whispers into my ear from behind. I have to give it to him, he has balls not cowering at the presence of Royce.
Any other man most definitely would.
My eyes lock with Royce’s, the rim of plastic coming to my lips as the stench of stale beer swims up my nose. “Just my brother.”
“Oh, shit, man!” Jensen chuckles, sliding me away. “I thought you were an ex-boyfriend or something, but figured you were a bit too old.” He’s literally twenty-two. Jensen is a fuckwit. The Royce I know would have already punched Jensen, but I guess he’s not the same boy I knew.
He’s more composed. More in control. He’s a weapon that’s been sharpened and only utilized to cause mass destruction. I’m in trouble.
Royce’s eyes remain on mine, but his words are for Jensen. “If only.”
He leaves and I finally exhale the breath that I’ve been holding. Jensen reaches for me again, but all I want to do is run. I can’t breathe, being suffocated by this life isn’t helping. I can feel my mind slipping into a dark hole and I don’t think I’m going to have the courage to pull myself out of it this time. Everything around me slows as my pulse quickens. I take the few steps needed to get to the front grass. I can vaguely see bikes parked at the front, but I don’t care about them. I want the safety of my dorm, to be held indoors, in my soft blankets and safe. Safe.
Before I can stop myself, I’m running. The wind is whipping through my hair, drying the tears that keep falling down my cheeks. My life is fucked. I’m ruined. I wish I could go back to all those years ago and stop him from leaving. I wish he cared enough to not have left me in the first place. Pain tightens its steel fist around the organs of my heart and squeezes.
“Jade!” I hear someone yell out behind me, but it’s too late, I need out. I need to be away from everything and everyone. I need silence and a cliff with the bluest water beneath. I want to watch the moody waves crash against dark rocks so my soul knows it’s not alone.
An arm wraps around my waist and I’m being lifted off the ground. I kick backward, annoyed with the tears. The pain. The weakness. “Let me go!”
“Jade!” he yells again, only this time his voice sounds too familiar. Like bile rising up my throat, his name rings in my head. James.
I freeze in his arms, dropping to my knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
I don’t want to be punished. I’m tired. I thought he was Royce. He sounded like Royce. My head is bowed as dark boots come into view. I can faintly hear another bike, but I dismiss it.
Those are boots, not loafers. Before I can stand, Royce is meeting me face-to-face, his eyes searching mine. “What are you doing, Duchess?”
I gulp past the rock that’s in my throat. He can never know. “I—” Searching his eyes, the blue depth of them is enough to remind me of the waves I so desperately yearned for just moments ago, his pupils the color of the rocks that they would crash against. “Why didn’t you take me?”