Page 48 of Pretend
“Is that you as a baby with your mother?” I point to the photo on the wall, and he looks over his shoulders.
“Yes,” he whispers coldly.
We continue to walk through his dark bedroom and get to his bathroom in seconds.
“I will be taking the couch tonight, and you can take my bedroom.” He holds the door open like he’s already ready to close it. I step in, examining the black andwhite shower curtains that mimic mountains and snow scenery. I turn around and immediately open my mouth to argue.
“I will not! Let me sleep on the couch. I-”
“I’m not asking Alessia.I’m telling you. I’m taking the couch.” He barks.
My teeth jam shut when he says my first name.
I like the way he says my name.
God, he can order me around, and I’ll gladly obey.
Shit.
I’m already acting like Winters with Lopez.
“Your boyfriend did that to you.” He lifts an eyebrow and points to the marks on my arm.
My head falls down to the red and purple marks. I hold where Jack gripped me with my palm, rubbing it up and down as if it’ll erase it. Erase the betrayal. Erase the bruises. The memory of my best friend screwing me over, quite literally with my boyfriend, comes back, and I’m tempted to start bawling my eyes out until I ache.
This hurts so damn much. She was my best friend. They both were.
And now?
I feel like I have no one.
A lump starts to form in my throat, but my somber thoughts slowly fade when my attention gets pulled toward a deep, husky voice once more.
“Didn’t he?” He growls, trying to pry the answer out of me again.
I nod, my lips turn into white slits, and I’m silent. I don’t know why, but I feel ashamed, even though I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Or maybe I feel shame for staying with Jack this long.
His eyes scream disgust. The same type of gaze he had when he stabbed Frankie. He grips the doorknob tight, his knuckles turning white. The anger radiates off of him, thickening the energy in the room. He shakes his head violently, like he’s doing whatever he can to hold back his fury.
“I was trying to leave the apartment when I found him and my best friend together. I was at the door to my place when he tried to stop me.” I murmur, unable to look at him anymore.
“I’m going to kill him.”
My eyes bulge out of my skull, and I launch forward to stop him before he can dart out of the bathroom. Before he can take another step forward, I squeeze his hand desperately, and I cry out.
“Mr. Hannibal, no, stop! You can’t!” I plead with him. After seeing what he did to Frankie, I can’t imagine what he would do to someone who left bruises on me.
Why does he care so much anyway?
“I kicked him in the balls,” I scoff, remembering Jack’s red face.“He’s probably still on the floor crying about it, honestly.” I grab his hand gently, gripping it, hoping I can stop him, just like I did at El Devine.
His eyebrows narrow intensely at my palm like he’s fighting an internal battle. I can’t tell if I’ve overstepped. Either way, it’s not enough to stop me.
His chest rises and falls fast as he takes in heavy, fiery breaths. We’re both still watching each other like we’re watching a horrible accident before our eyes, and we can’t stop it. There’s a connection between us. He knows it. I know it. An indecipherable connection that only time will unravel. We both take in this moment of our skin touching, savoring the intimate silence I don’t want to break.
He must feel what I am, too.
