He pulls away from me, breathing heavy as he drops his hand between us, cursing again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”he barks out, turning away from me, and I fall back against the wall, losing my footing.
“I can’t do this, I can’t...”Matty pulls out his phone.
I fall on my ass.
“I’m calling the driver back.I think it is time we ended this nightmare.”He punches a number into the lit screen.
Nightmare.
He called me a nightmare.
Fuck.
I fucked up.
Bad.
“Matty, I–”
“Be out front in ten minutes, Dare,” he snaps, his voice cold, calculating.
Gone is the needy, sexy Batman that pushed me over the edge, and in its place is the bitter musician who thinks I’m the bane of his damn existence.
My eyes glisten as shame and guilt rack me, because the way he looks at me cuts me to my core.
It’s the opposite of praise.
It’s remorse.
No, no, no...
He starts to walk away, leaving me in the shadows of this empty hallway.
He is halfway before he turns around.
A deep sigh leaves him as he grabs me, attempting to lift me up.
He wraps my hand around his shoulder and holds my waist, and a sob tears through me as I lean against him.
“Matty, I?—”
“Darren, for once, fucking listen to me.Please.Don’t.”His voice softens for a moment.“You’ll forget about it in the morning, anyway.”
A part of me recognizes the sadness, the loneliness in his voice.I want to tell him I won’t, that I could never forget him and his sexy grin or his Batman voice, or the hunger in his eyes while he watched me on stage.
And I would never forget the way his fingers felt when they squeezed my neck, the way his tongue felt in my mouth, or the truth that lay buried underneath walls of stone.
I could never forget Mateo Starr crumbling underneath me if my life depended on it.
“Where are we going?”I ask like a sad little kid.
“I need to keep you safe.”He guides me through the crowd, his grip on my waist solid and firm.
“Are you mad?”My stomach flips, fear shaking my tired bones, and I feel like I might throw up.
Should I tell him that?