“I think we’ve ran our course. I don’t do personal, Sydney, and obviously that little tidbit of information has made you think of me differently. I can see it all over your face.” I turn away from her again, burying my hands in my hair as I sink into my couch.
“Is that what you think? That because you’ve been to prison, I don’t want to sleep with you anymore? That’s …”
My head pops up and meets her eyes brimming with tears. Fuck, I hate seeing her cry. Why does it feel like someone’s stabbing me in the chest right now?
“I thought maybe you thought more of me than that, Javi.” She shakes her head at me as one tear slides down her cheek, her hand reaching up to brush it away.
I can’t watch her cry anymore. The itch to punch a hole in my wall comes on so strong that I know she needs to leave before I explode and ruin the work I’ve done on this house. I need her out of here, so I say something final and harsh that will cement the situation we’re in.
“I think you were a good fuck and we had fun. But let’s just call this what it is, Princess. Done.”
I watch her clench her jaw and her fists, glaring at me through her moisture filled eyes, before storming away from me, grabbing her purse, and moving for my door.
“You won’t even give me a chance to tell you how I feel, will you?” She says softly with her back turned to me, but I can sense the hesitation in her voice.
“What’s the point?” I mutter back, keeping my head buried in my hands.
“That things aren’t always what you think, Javi. I thought I had more respect from you than this.”
“Just go, Sydney. Please.” My voice is cracking as I hear her turn the knob and open the door, closing it harshly behind her.
As soon as I hear her car start and see the headlights pull out of my yard, I push up off the couch in a fit of rage.
“Fuck!” I reach for the closest thing to me and chuck it across the room. Unluckily for me I found my remote and watch as the black plastic shatters and ricochets off the drywall, leaving a dent and scratch in the navy blue paint.
But it’s not nearly as bad as the gaping hole in my chest right now.
Why does it feel like someone is squeezing my heart in their fist as my blood pressure soars and a lump lodges itself in my throat? Why is my head pounding as I retrieve the broom from the hall closet and proceed to clean up my mess?
Because she meant more to you, idiot.
Apparently my subconscious is a lot smarter than me, or at least not as stubborn, as reality sets in.
I didn’t want her to know because I care.
I didn’t want to see her reaction because I knew how she thinks about me would affect me.
When we were having sex, it didn’t matter that I was an ex-con, a man from the other side of town, a boy who never felt worthy because of the looks others gave me due to the color of my skin and where I lived.
She was all that mattered.
The way she trusted me to please her.
Her cries of pleasure and touch that told me I made her feel safe in my hands.
The way she kept coming back for more, even beyond a few orgasms.
Our small conversations, the little details that we shared with each other. Those moments all allowed her to bury herself in my chest, and I didn’t even see it coming.
But I’m no good for her. And I think she knows it now. Which is why this is for the best.
My sister was right. Someone was bound to get hurt in our arrangement.
I just never thought it’d be me.
Chapter 23
Sydney
“So on a scale from one to ten, how is your anger today?” Ally’s sassiness comes through my Bluetooth speaker as I drive to work, her daily check-in since Saturday helping me process my fall out with Javi.
“Well, I thought the extra mile I ran this morning would have knocked me down a notch, but sadly I’d say I’m still hovering around an eight.”
Softening her voice, she flips a switch on me that I’m not emotionally prepared for. “Is it just anger you’re feeling, Syd, or is there a little sadness there too?” The sting of tears builds as I continue to drive, blurring my vision.
“I think that’s a fair assessment,” I reply on a whisper, afraid to keep talking otherwise the damn might break and I’ll ruin my makeup before I ever get to work.
I don’t want to cry or allow myself to feel sad because then I’m just going to feel sorry for myself when I have no one to blame but me. I knew what I was getting into when this all started, what I agreed to when Javier told me that this could only just be about sex and feelings were to be left out. But true to my womanly ways, I went and caught feelings and more importantly, Javi never gave me the opportunity to actually tell him how I felt about his confession. Then again, he was the one who initiated text conversations and communication that wasn’t just about hooking up, so maybe the bad boy forgot about his own damn rules and he is partially to blame for how I’m feeling right now.
Hearing him confirm my suspicions opened up a can of worms in my mind, but all I really wanted him to know was that I didn’t think of him differently because of it. In fact,
