Page 67 of Make Me Pretty
With a huff, he pulls away, leaving my hand hanging limply in the air. His boxers are nothing but scraps as he pushes them off, where they stain my carpet.
It’s not until he turns his back on me that it hits me.He’s leaving.
My chest squeezes. “Where the fuck are you going?”
Abel glances over his shoulder, fingers wrapped around the doorknob. I rake my eyes over his naked body, at the glistening fluids covering him.
I can’t really explain the erratic thumping of my heart other than it’s the after-effects of coming so fucking hard.
“To bed.” His eyes dart to my clock. “It’s late.”
My brows furrow as I glance at the numbers behind me. When I look back to Abel, he’s gone, doorsnickingshut at his departure.
Hands in my sweaty hair, I pant up at the ceiling, skin still tingling with the overture and feeling too tight stretched over my sternum.
I wait with bated breath for it all to hit me. But after the twenty-ninth consecutive change of numbers on the clock, it finally hits me that this is all there is.
Not the inevitable shame and disgust I expected, but instead, a tender, gnawing loneliness.
“Well, fuck.”
CHAPTER 21
PERIS
I’m goingto fucking kill him.
Perfect, tight little ass be damned. He’s going to die.
Gabe splutters as he jumps out of his car behind me and raps his knuckles on the top. “What the fuck?” Apparently, all pretenses of our argument are long gone as we both stare at the… surprise Abel left me.
Yanking at my wet strands, I roll my eyes, teeth sunk into the inside of my cheek.
“He took that to a whole new level.”
“You don’t fucking say.”
“So… you don’t want a fresh start? ‘Cause you’re still being a dick,” Gabe says after a short pause. I peer around my shoulder. His brown eyes are warm in the rays of yellow light, curly hair looking like it has gold strands woven within it.
I ruminate on his words as the parking lot fills, both of our cars blocking the end of the lane. Someone honks so I raise my arm to flip them off without looking away from the bright pink spray paint. A fuckingsmiley facenext to a“Peris Baxter”and“Go #3”followed by a weird-looking heart and the nameruntwith an“xxoo.”
Fuckingkisses and hugs,my ass.Couldn’t even be bothered to write xoxo like a normal person.
Allthe other varsity player parking spots are decorated with chalk from the other cheerleaders—as the first game ritual goes—but of course, Abel had to go the extra mile and literallygraffitimine.
“If I get booted from the fucking game for this…” I growl. Yanking on my hair doesn’t help, but it’s all I have when quite the crowd has started to gather, interested in mine and Gabe’s immobility.
“Nah, you’ll be fine. It’s not like you did it.”
“You think that really matters? It’s fucking spray paint, Gabe.” Voices trickle all around me as the crowd gathers. Sweat licks along my spine, burning through to the tight coil in my gut that hasn’t gone away since Abel left my room without a backward glance.
I mean, seriously. What the hell is his deal? He pulls so hot and cold, acting like he wants to crawl up my ass one minute, and the next like he’s never touched me, never choked on my cock or tasted my cum.
Never sat on my dick while I wassleeping.
“What happened?” Gabe asks, bumping my shoulder. It knocks me off balance, and I reach out to grab him. I blink through a ray of light beaming between us and turn away from it.
Raising my hand to my eyebrows to block it out, I catch a gleam up high. I blink rapidly a few times, pinching one eye shut as I tilt my head back, eyes scanning the building. Another flash in my peripheral.
