Page 117 of Unloved

But I was a game to her, probably the easiest she ever played.

Thinking about myself then, about what I did, the things I was so desperate for that I debased myself time and again, makes the nausea churn higher, so I shake my head and focus on what I can remember.

Which is nearly nothing.

“How did I get here?”

“They called me to pick you up.”

That does not make me feel any better.

“Did we…”

“No, Freddy—we didn’t sleep together. You didn’t want to. Didn’t even try to kiss me,” she says condescendingly, stepping to where I’ve swung my legs over the side of the bed to stand. “You were embarrassingly drunk.”

I scowl a little, peering up at where she broods over me. “I was drunk a lot.”Probably over half the times we slept together before.

Drowning in grief that felt like a never-ending ocean that I couldn’t get out of.

But…You didn’t want to, her words echo. I said no to her—I didn’t cheat…

Cheat on Ro? You’re not dating her. Fucking stupid.God, my head is spinning.

“We were… together, then. We aren’t now—it’s different,” she says, her tone the same one she’s used with me forever, like she’s correcting a wayward child.

And for a second, it’s that same frustration and burning, the same weird feeling that used to flow through me as a freshman, grief ridden and angry, with the permission to take power from this woman with so much power over me—and be praised for it.

“For what it’s worth coming from me… I think you’re amazing, Matt. You’re a good man.” Ro’s voice plays like my favorite record on a loop in my head, building me up brick by brick again. “I think you’d be really easy to love.”

“How’s it going with Ro?”

It all crashes back down.

I feel sick, so much so I press up and brush half-naked past Carmen to the bathroom, hating the three steps it takes to get there. Hating even more that I know where it is, the familiarity of this situation.

“Fine,” I blurt out, leaning over the sink. I wish I didn’t have to sayanything, but I know that I have to say something. There’s aninsistent need to defend Ro, especially to Carmen. Especially in the aftermath of what I’ve done.

Selfish playboy asshole.Thisis why Rhys and Bennett wanted you to keep your distance.

Splashing cool water on my skin doesn’t help, and I feel like my head is swimming—like I can’t get enough air in, because I’m panicking, and I can’t get one thought to stick long enough to decide what to do.

“Must be going well. Randall told me you begged him to call her and not me.”

Randall, the bartender who probably called Carmen.

Carmen leans against the door, twisting and untwisting her smooth red hair. There was a time where this much nearness, the feeling that shewantedto talk to me beyond the sex, would’ve had me doing tricks for an extra treat.

Now, my shoulders tense, freezing like a cornered deer in the spotless marble bathroom.

“I was so sad to hear she and Tyler broke up; they were a real power couple.”

My grip on the sink tightens.

I don’t say a word—I probably wouldn’t if I could. Even the thought of talking about Ro with Carmen makes my knees weak.

Damn it, did I drink enough to have some kind of alcohol poisoning?

“But it looks like things are working out for you two?”

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