Falling back, I rest against the wall naked and wipe my forearm across my sweaty head.
Fuck, I’m a fucking mess.
It’s almost been two weeks since the funeral, and here I am still drowning like it happened only yesterday.
Everyone says it’s meant to get easier. But I call bullshit.
Nothing about my life is getting any easier right now.
But then, I lift my eyes from the dark tiles beneath me and they lock on my walk-in shower.
No, those moments in there with Brianna made things easier. Even if they were figments of my imagination.
Tipping my head back, I close my eyes once more, putting myself back in there with her. Running my tongue along my bottom lip, I can almost taste the sweetness of her blood as I sank my teeth into her thigh, branding her like the fucking cunt that I am. But fuck if it doesn’t get my cock hard just thinking about her walking around, wearing the evidence of who she belongs to. I guess Seb wasn’t entirely insane all those months ago when he carved up Stella’s thigh with his initials.
Yeah, actually. I can totally see a nice deep NC on Brianna’s inner thigh. The perfect mark to prove to anyone who might try it on with her that she’s owned. And we both know that she likes to play with others.
Something toxic and bitter fills my empty stomach as I think about her being with another man.
It’s never really bothered me before. She was just a hookup. One that was good enough to repeat, which is unusual, I’ll admit. But neither of us made any promises, and we certainly never gave up getting our kicks elsewhere. I know for a fact I fucking didn’t.
But now, the thought of being with anyone else, risking letting anyone else see my pain, is anything but appealing.
I might not want Bri to see it, but I fear that might just be too late. And even if she hasn’t seen as much as I fear, she knows. She knows everything.
When I finally heave myself up from the floor and stand in front of the mirror, I’m horrified by what I find staring back at me in the mirror.
“Jesus, Cirillo.”
It’s a good job that my rendezvous with my Siren was only a figment of my imagination. There’s no way in hell that she’d actually fuck me when I looked this pathetic.
I brush my teeth, shave and shower in the hope it somewhat brings me back to life. I have no idea what time it is, but if school is still happening then I at least need to make an effort to show my face.
Exams are starting… sometime soon, and as much as I might hate the world and everyone in it right now, I can’t bail on them.
I remember the disappointment on Dad’s face when I royally fucking up my first year in sixth form, forcing me to start over with Theo, Alex, and Seb. He’d be fucking livid if I fucked it up again and used him as an excuse.
He needs to be my motivation instead.
Pass these exams, boy. Prove your worth. One day you’ll be standing beside Theo, ruling this fucking city. Prove the doubters wrong. Prove you’ve got what it takes.
I hear the words clear as day, as if he’s standing right behind me as I walk into my bedroom and rip open my wardrobe to find a clean set of uniform.
My brows pinch as I stand there staring at the hanging clothes before me and my mind spins.
I don’t remember getting undressed last night, and I certainly woke up naked.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find my clothes balled up in my laundry basket.
I do fucking weird shit when I’m drunk, because they hardly even end up there when I’m sober.
Shaking my head at my drunken antics, I finally reach for my shirt and trousers and drag them on before swiping my tie that’s folded up on my dresser.
It’s not until I find my phone out in the living room, the alarm that would have gone off hours ago ignored, that I even think about the time again.
Getting dressed could have been a totally pointless exercise.
“Lunchtime,” I mutter to myself as I stare down at my screen, ignoring all the notifications. Most are from our group chat, but there are also tons of social media and banking ones too. Putting it back to sleep to deal with later, I stuff it into my pocket and try to forget about its existence.