His brows slam down around his dark eyes, and I suppress a victorious smirk, gazing at him wide-eyed while I wait for him to come at me.
“If I wanted Sarah Fucking Fremont, she’d be here. As it turns out, I don't. Why? You offering Princess?” he sneers.
Bingo. “Nope, I thought we covered this. I’ve found your way of thinking to be just what I need. Hate fucks are much more up my alley.”
“Is that right? And who have you hate fucked recently?” he asks, silkily.
“Again, this is old news,” I say, praying Hayden doesn’t hate me for this, “Hayden gets the job done just fine.”
“Princess,” he says darkly, causing a shiver to race down my spine, “if it’s a job, then he’s not doing it right.”
“Ha!” I exclaim, at a loss for words, every part of me loose and heated, as liquid fire pulses through my veins.
My body’s telling me in no uncertain terms we want Colt Theroux, and fighting with him is an aphrodisiac that beats painfully through me in anticipation of the real thing, but unfortunately, my heart knows the drill. I’ve been burned enough.
“Tell me,” he says curiously, his face turned toward the windshield, “when you told the entire group at my birthday party that I was just like my dad, what did you mean?”
Huh? Tracing my thoughts back to that night, I do remember spewing as much hateful garbage at him as I could find. I don't regret it, and it would seem if this sticks out for him, it hit its mark.
Shrugging delicately, I say, “Just what I said. How you treat women is no different than the guy you hate. Just because you don't make undying declarations of love,” I sneer, “doesn't mean you’re not using and abusing them.”
There's a protracted silence before he says between gritted teeth, “I’m nothing like my father.”
“If you say so,” I shrug.
Pulling his truck to the curb in front of my house abruptly, Colt turns to me with a glare and grabs my chin, saying heatedly, “I’m nothing like my piece of shit father. I promised you nothing. I can't help it if you panted after me like a bitch in heat.”
Smarting, I pull my chin away and glare right back. “Fuck you, Colt. You played with my emotions in a bid to what? Get back at me? What’s Daddy doing every day, Colt? Playing with your mom’s emotions. Shit, he’s even playing with his real wife’s.”
Colt’s face drops to icy cold disdain, and I cringe away uncomfortably. I’ve never seen this look before, not even when Colt stood before the whole of our peers and declared he was dumping me because I was boring in bed.
“Don't mention her, don't ever mention her,” he replies, the air around us frosty with his anger.
Eyeing him uneasily, I say into the quiet, “Your mom?”
“No, her...rich bitch. She’s a fucking cold-hearted piece of shit. Never speak of her again.”
He’s so cold, so icy, a shiver races down my spine. Turning away so he can’t see my unease, I say over my shoulder, “Whatever.”
Exiting the truck, I let myself inside, unarming and rearming the alarm while he watches from the curb. Although I don't look, I know he stays long enough to see the light come on in my room, the rumble of his truck fading after that.
With a raging headache, I drop into bed and clutch my belly, resigned to another night of purging, damning myself for drinking too much alcohol.
Fucking Colt and my fan inspire some seriously shitty life choices.
Still, I can’t help but to ponder Colt’s words and his vehemence in demanding that I never mention his stepmother or whatever she is again. Why does he hate her so much?
Sighing, I run my hands down my face. I knew he had issues with his dad and the fucked-up situation, but the sheer hatred in his eyes at the mention of her makes me wonder how that came about. And do I care?
Referring to her as rich bitch definitely makes the wheels turn, though. It’s been a question rolling around in my brain since the first time he referenced her that way. Can it all be a coincidence?
Chapter Two
The following week brings much of the same from Colt, although his icy cold demeanor is back in place, and he mostly ignores me even if I feel his brooding gaze on me in every class we now share.
I can only assume his attitude is directly related to the mention of his stepmother and our heated argument. Still, since I know only the basics of what is a very complicated and sordid relationship, I have no clue what’s made him angry.
This is only further proof that our relationship was surface only and another reminder of Colt’s inability to feel.
Colt runs from vulnerability like a child from a rabid dog, which is to say, he’d rather die than expose himself. I convinced myself our relationship was too new, and it would take time, but as it turned out, he wasn’t planning on a relationship at all.
I'm assuming he’s licking his wounds after revealing his complete hatred of her because he makes sure to go out of his way to be an ass. This includes flirting with every bitch in heat while looking my way with a frigid smile.
I ignore it as much as I can, but I’m getting tired of the pretense. And what happened to Sarah?
I thought she was his girlfriend?
I’m also still avoiding Hayden to his amusement. Just this morning, he stepped up beside me while I walked down the hall and said, “You still think I’m the enemy?”
“At this point, I don’t know what to think,” I muttered, “but you can’t deny that you’ve been friends with Colt for years. Did he even need me to ask for your number, or did he already have it?”
During our brief sojourn dating, Colt asked me to ask
