Page 52 of Roan

You’d be right.

Before I can sneak away, my dad comes into view. Broad shoulders, dressed in all black, he’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What?” My voice trembles.

“He’s looking for you.” Stepping to the side, I look behind me and see a man leaning against a Monster Energy trailer. I’ll give you a hint as to who appears. His name haunts me and his touch makes breathing impossible.

Dad disappears behind me, and part of me is relieved I don’t have to explain what he might have or might not have seen with Agustin because I’m alone with Roan, trapped between event trailers and the street. To my left, the tents and where Agustin is, to the right, the street and beyond that, the beach.

Our eyes meet and he doesn’t say anything.

I think briefly about running toward the beach. Anything to keep from having to explain. But I can’t make myself step away. The energy, the want, the constant pull between us hums through the air. I fight it, trying to break the tension while every part of me aches for his touch.

His eyes, the lies, all of it twists inside me. He stares at me with confusion etched in the lines of his forehead. My heart cracks, another piece broken. I hate that the one man, the one I told all my doubts to, my fears, the one who knows every lie I’ve been told over the years, let me believe something so awful.

I burn with bitterness. Blowing out a breath, I turn, as if I’m going to walk away from him. Only, I don’t get far. I never do with him. You knew I wouldn’t, didn’t you?

I hear his quick steps before his hands envelop me, our connection instant. He forcefully pushes his body into mine. He smells like racing fuel and sweat, a sweet combination that’s all him.

Momentarily, I lose myself in him because nobody touches me the way he does. I close my eyes and fight through unseen emotions. “What are you doing?”

He holds tighter, unrelenting, swallowing me whole. Suddenly, I’m against the side of the trailer. Grabbing a handful of my hair with one hand, he bunches my white dress at my hip with the other. “You don’t love him,” he whispers, dragging his lips over the shell of my ear.

I breathe in his words and give mine on the exhale. “And I don’t think you know how.”

His head dips, sweeping his nose along my collarbone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmurs, his lips fluttering against scorching skin.

“I do though,” I tell him, my voice insistent. His head lifts, our connection solidified. I stare at him, tears forming. I can’t look away at the emotion in his face. “This game we play. The endless, impulsive push and pull, you hurt me so I hurt you, it’snevergoing to stop. We’re bad for each other.”

He’s silent. Nothing. I’m not even sure he’s breathing. My eyes burn, my chest constricts, searching for answers, and everything around me blurs. I manage to get my hands between us and push against his chest.

He gazes at the ring, then me. He leans in, closer this time, his body pushing me back into the heated metal of the trailer. His lips are near my ear when he growls, “Why?”

I pant against his cheek, a whimper working through me as I struggle to break free of the hold he has. “You need to let go of me.”

His touch eases and backs up, but his tormented eyes hold mine. “Why?”

I don’t have to answer him. I don’t. I shouldn’t have to justify myself to him just because he thinks he deserves an answer. “What did you say to that girl when you signed her tits?”

Running a shaking hand over the back of his neck, he smirks and holds his hand there. My eyes deceive me and I notice he’s still shirtless and wearing his riding pants. I try to ignore the muscles, the tattoos, the sweat beading on his skin. I try, but it’s too much. It’s like he sucks the air from my lungs and I fight to stay alive, as dramatic as that sounds. The smirk fades and his eyes paint a very different picture than they did moments ago. But still, nothing. No words, no explanation, no, I’m sorry. I get absolutely nothing.

He’s not going to answer me and that’s just… typical of him. I roll my eyes, squaring my jaw and shoulders. “Figures you wouldn’t tell the truth. Why don’t you go meet up with the ho,” I spit. “I bet she’s waiting by your bike.”

I turn, again, and the very moment I begin to walk away from him, he slams his fist into the side of the trailer. “You know what, fuck you,” he yells. “And for your information, I told her to fuck the guy next to her.”

I spin around, but then all I see is him stalking away from me. The guy next to her? What? Why?

And then I remember who she was standing next to.

Agustin.

He told a woman to fuck my boyfriend.

I think I underestimated Ophelia’s love for Agustin. What about you?

Let me tell you though, it’s fucking fake. But I still underestimated the lengths to which she’d go to make me regret my actions. She doesn’t love him though, not really, not at all. She’s in love with the safety of him. The idea. The one she can be with and it’s effortless, undefined, motionless. You get the point. In other words, she wants comfort and I’m not exactly the kind of guy who offers that.

Quite the opposite actually. I’m never satisfied with much of anything, I love to push people to the very edge of their sanity and to be honest, I find normalcy fucking boring. Ophelia’s been around me long enough to know she’s not going to get that from me.

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