Page 9 of Royal Havoc

It’s amazing the tiny moments our brain tucks away, hidden but not forgotten. Entering the cottage, a familiar scent knocks at my tired memory, taking me back to a moment I never wanted to save.

Our last visit here.

The brown leather sofa and chair sitting to my right are in the same places as years ago. The only change I notice is the updated flat screen hanging on the far wall above the fireplace.

To the left, the same table rests in the breakfast nook, where I sat and colored. It appears the kitchen appliances have been replaced with stainless steel.

It’s as though the space has been suspended in time, waiting to be revisited. I make sure to reset the code before hefting my heavy bag through the living room to the master bedroom.

It’s not worth claiming since I’m just borrowing it.

He’s replaced the queen bed with a massive king. Beautifully intricate ironwork trails over the sage wall acting as the headboard. A puffy gray comforter covers the bed. Glancing to my right, I see he’s added a bench seat lined with comfy cushions under the picture window. The setting sun casts shadows over the weeping willow while it glitters over the river.

I unzip my bag, locate my bathroom stuff, ready to wash away the makeup streaking my face and begin the process of purging this awful day.

Is it wrong that I hope to forget it forever?

You can call me a heartless bitch. Trust me, I’ve been called worse. Go ahead and say you hate me. No worries, I probably don’t like you either. The fact is… how do you love someone, when you’ve never been taught to love?

The attention she siphoned from me outshined her lack ofcaring.

Once I’ve changed into pajamas and erased the messy day from my face, I’m on my way to finish unpacking.

I gasp, hand flying to cover my fluttering heart. Quickly recovering from my mini-stroke, I allow my eyes to rake over every inch of his 6ft something frame, hoping to filet him to pieces with the daggers I’m throwing his way.

I’m sure the vultures would love a treat.

He’s changed since I saw him last. His dark hair’s grown, hanging over his molten eyes, almost hiding the dark lashes lining them like ink. Contacts replace the crooked glasses I remember sliding down his nose. Obviously, the ungodly amount of candy he ate when we were kids has turned into muscles my nails scream to drag across like a sharpening post.

“Stalkers are canceled, Vex. Get out,” I deadpan, breaking the charged silence building between us.

He leans a shoulder on the bedroom door frame, crossing his arms to block the only exit. “We need to talk,” he rasps, eyes seducing every one of my curves.

I lean against the bathroom door, mirroring him. “You’re an asshole. I hate you. Good talk,” I hiss, wishing my words were darts I could throw at his face.

“Bet you didn’t talk like that to Franky,” he taunts, narrowing evil eyes at me.

Raising my middle finger to caress my bottom lip. “Mmhmm,Felixwas delicious,” I wink, flipping him off.

He starts towards me, changing his mind mid-step. “He posted that shit on his social, Onyx,” he growls, fists flexing at his sides.

He’s referring to a Cuervo night at the club a few months ago. I was thirsty, and the shots were free. Felix was a body on the dance floor, and I needed a little mental break. Probably not my best look on my knees on a dirty club floor, but at least we were hidden in a dark corner.

Nolan had that shit handled and removed in minutes. Too bad it took me three weeks to find it.

“Aww, are you one of my SM fans?” I mock, stepping from the bathroom. “Or a deranged stalker?” I grumble, rolling my eyes hard enough it shoots tiny thunderbolts through my sockets.

He charges towards me, hand wrapping around my throat, pressing me hard against the wall. “I’m done chasing your ass,” he grits close to my face.

I shove him hard enough he steps back. “Fuck you, Vex. I never wanted you to,” I grit back at him.

“I told you it was a joke. We were ten. Get over it,” he huffs, shrugging like he just told me something as simple as the weather.

Let’s have a little sit-down, so I can fill you in before I set this fucker on fire. Our parents -and I use the term very loosely on my behalf- were best friends. So, Vexey Pooh and I goall the way back.After Mom flew the coop, Grace — his mom — would visit once in a while, and we would play for hours. He was my best friend. I told him all my secrets, and he promised to keep them.

“It wasn’t a joke,” I hiss, shoving him back another step.

“Guess you’re still afraid of the dark,” he teases tauntingly.

---