Page 25 of Vendetta

“Not really,” I say, groaning as my back hits the bed. “I'd rather just forget right now.”

She gives me a sheepish smile and gets up, walking across the room, and opens one of the drawers. She pulls out a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's and giggles, walking back to the bed and handing me the bottle. “We're not allowed this in the rooms.” She puts her index finger over her lips in that universal “shush” sign.

“How old are you?” I ask her, before taking a swig straight from the bottle. I've already made my guess she's barely past her teens.

“Twenty-one?” she tries, taking the bottle from me.

“Okay, Soraya, and how old is Amber?”

“Nineteen,” she says, looking down.

“I'm sorry.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “What for?”

“For almost taking advantage of you.”

“Don't worry. It's what I do,” she says, an odd look passing over her features before she hands me back the bottle.

LEIGHTON

The sound of the door opening instantly wakes me up. I can see Devon’s shadow as he walks in the room, toward the bed. Hecurses when he walks into the coffee table, then chuckles. Wait; is he drunk?

“Devon?” I whisper.

“Leighton.” He sighs softly. I sit up in bed and turn the bedside lamp on. The light illuminates his flushed face, and I know instantly that I was right. Heisdrunk. Completely wasted. He looks handsome as ever, in a crisp white shirt, a few buttons opened at the top, showing me a hint of his toned chest. He walks toward me, his stride sloppy and uneven. I watch him intently as he sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning close. When his face is inches from mine my nose wrinkles. I lean closer to him, and smell his neck. Perfume. When I look down at the collar of his shirt, there is harlot red lipstick smudged everywhere.

“Where were you?” I demand, pushing at his shoulders. Only then do I notice that his top buttons are done up wrong, one buttoning through the wrong hole.

“I went to see Amber,” he slurs, trying to come closer to me.

“Who the fuck is Amber?” I snap, sounding like a jealous girlfriend, but what the fuck? He turned me down while I was wet and willing, to go and fuck someone else? I was naked, and practically begging him. Why didn’t he want me? I know our attraction isn’t ideal, but I never thought he would do something like this. What the hell is going on in that mind of his?

He was with another woman tonight.

It hurts like a shot to my chest.

After he left, I had to get myself off, leaving me still unsatisfied, but it was better than lying there frustrated all night while he was out, fucking someone named Amber.

I’m contemplating just how stupid I am when Devon leans in and tries to kiss me. He reeks of alcohol and cheap perfume, and I almost want to throw up. As his lips almost make contact with mine I pull back, bringing up my hand to slap him right acrossthe face. I pull back my hand as it starts to burn, but that pain is nothing compared to what I feel on the inside.

He has the nerve to fuck someone else, after turning me down so harshly, and then come to my bed to rub it in my face?

I hate him. Right now, in this moment, I fucking hate him.

My throat stings as he touches his face where I hit him, confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Leighton, you don’t understand. She’s no one,” he says, reaching for me again.

“No one? You left me to go to her. You think you can fuck someone else then come to bed with me?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes. Does he think I’m that easy? The thought makes me furious.

“Let me hold you,” he murmurs, ignoring my question. He reaches out again, sighing in what sounds like relief as his hand makes contact with my arm.

I grit my teeth. “You are such an asshole.”

“She’s not you,” he says, pulling me closer. “Please, come here.”

This time I let him. I cuddle with him, rubbing his back with my palm in soothing circles. A few minutes later and he's out like a light. Perfect.

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