For the first time in my life, I feel used, and yet so utterly pleased.
That’s when I take the time to finally admit I’m in so much trouble.
15
Ronan
The upside of pretending since the day I was born is that most people can’t see the real me.
Hell, even I can’t see that bastard sometimes. It worked just fine for years, and we’re talking about a lifetime subscription.
The difference between me and, say, someone like Teal — who’s currently glaring at me from the top of the stairs at her house — is that she can’t hide.
She’s too real, too raw, even if she has this ‘fuck off’ aura. She can’t fake or say things she doesn’t mean, and it’s why she’s never fit in the hypocritical game of RES’s halls.
When girls did everything to fit in, she just followed what she liked. She never once laughed or smiled because it was expected. She’s a socially awkward bean with a twist. Most socially awkward people don’t want to be in that category, whereas Teal likes it — if anything, she might even take pride in it.
Her glares are real, too. They’re probably the most real thing about her, the way her thick brows scrunch and her skin reddens with pent-up anger. Without words, she communicates that she hates having me here. She hates my guts and my existence, basically.
Get in line, belle.
For the past week, I’ve been picking her up for school, despite her protests and jabs and attempts to throw me under the bus like a mechanic every time an adult is around.
She tries to brush past me, ignore me, pretend I don’t exist. When that doesn’t work, she attempts to make me look bad.
Teal still doesn’t understand that she can’t win against me in the peopling game. I’m way too loved, too approachable, and I don’t give off the deceptive calm façade like Cole. For that reason, people like me and naturally gravitate towards me.
It’s not a gift. It’s a commitment I made to myself when I decided I’d never be alone.
Not for one second.
Not even for a blink.
To accomplish that, people needed to take a liking to me. Before I knew it, I was becoming the epitome fantasy of any person looking to socialise.
Teal and I are opposite that way. She’s a loner by choice, never by force. She wasn’t bullied into it, because even when people called her a social outcast and Satan’s worshipper, she didn’t give them the time of day. She just rolled with it and gave them the middle finger.
So how come someone like her, someone who doesn’t fit in my image of peopling, can consume my thoughts?
I haven’t stopped thinking about her. After the day she left my house with her clothes and hair dishevelled and her lips swollen from me fucking her mouth, she became Ron Astor the Second’s fantasy come true.
Every night, I dream of her black eyes as she stared up at me, and I can almost still taste her on my tongue.
I can still hear her tiny voice saying I’ll be good. Fuck. I’ve never loved words as much as those, never thought of a girl as much as I do of her.
Thankfully, I have the best solution to get rid of this unwanted attention. If I get close enough, I’ll eventually tire of her. The reason she’s occupying my thoughts is that I still know little to nothing about her aside from her being manhandled kink and her bad taste in men.
I should be her type.
Anyway, that’s why I’ve been showing up every day since. She’s starting to slip away by avoiding any alone time with me, probably scared about what I’ll do with her.
My head has been going into overdrive since that day, obsessing about the best way to fuck her so thoroughly she’ll forget everyone before me — and after me.
Wait. She gets people after me? I don’t like that thought.
Knox clasps my shoulder as she huffs and goes back to where she came from. She’ll buy more time before she has to go to school — it’s her pattern. Doesn’t matter. Sooner or later, she’ll come for me.
Pun intended.