Page 106 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“Tell me he wasn’t your boyfriend. Tell me you didn’t lie.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Right.” He laughs. “And you didn’t lie about your age, either?”
My jaw drops. He’s got me there, and he knows it. I shake my head. I’m speechless.
“You’re twenty-three, Callie. I might only have a high school education, but I can do basic math. You were nineteen at ArtFusion, but you told me you were old enough to drink. You’re going to hold a grudge and be pissed at me wheneverythingyou did was to get close to me. You lied about your age. Your boyfriend?—”
“He wasn’t my fucking boyfriend!”
“Whatever the fuck he was, then. It doesn’t change the fact that you kissed him after we hooked up. He was more than just a friend to you. I liked you, but when I saw you kissing Becket Walker, I accepted it for what it was. For whatyoumade it. You don’t get to change the facts to make me the bad guy now.”
For a moment, I start to spiral. I start to feel bad. I’ve never denied my part in our ArtFusion tryst, and Ialmostwant to forgive and forget...but I can’t. Not yet. I’m swept up in the argument. My anger is driving my actions, and my stubborn need to win is riding shotgun.
Torren King is a dick.
He’s selfish, and I’m a solution to a problem. Nothing more. I won’t let him shove my mistakes in my face while he refuses to acknowledge his own.
“You’re not going to get me to feel sorry for you, Torren,” I say, my anger still simmering at the surface despite all he’s confessed. “I won’t apologize. You act like you did nothing wrong here, but you looked right at me. Right at me! You fucked her against that tour bus one night after taking my virginity, and you were looking at me when you came inside her.”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Fuck...”
I scoff. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember that.”
“I don’t. I don’t remember it. I swear. I’m sorry, Callie.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and looks back at me with glittering green eyes full of sorrow. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t do that on purpose. I didn’t know you were there. Had I known you’d come to me, I never would have done it. I just...Fuck, Calla Lily I am so goddamn sorry.”
I grit my teeth against the urge to fold.
“Bullshit,” I force out. “Let’s just cut our losses, King, and call it what it was. A big fucking mistake.”
Torren’s nostrils flare, and then he pulls out his phone. He breaks eyecontact to scroll for a moment, then tosses the phone to me. I catch it, but before I can look at the screen, he’s unbuckling his belt.
“What the actual fuck are you doing?”
“Look at the phone screen.”
When he undoes his button, I spin around and give him my back. I close my eyes, and then he repeats himself.
“Look at the phone, Callie. Now.”
I hear the sound of his zipper, followed by his pants being shoved down his legs. Because I need something to think about besides the fact that he’s stripping behind me, I look at the phone, and then my jaw drops.
On the phone screen is the picture he took of me at ArtFusion.
The one he texted to himself after decorating my body with latex paint.
I deleted this photo the morning after I caught Torren with Sav. I’d all but forgotten about it. But seeing it now, the memory of it seems as clear and as crisp as if it were yesterday.
In the photo, I’m looking down and to the side, my face mostly in shadow due to the dim lighting in the tent that night. My hair looks more brown than red, and the features of my face are hidden, but the body paint is just as gorgeous as I remember it. Torren turned me into a living, breathing flame.
Emotions start to unfurl in my stomach. My heart starts to race. Then I clamp my eyes shut, severing the connection between myself and that naïve girl in the photo.
“So what? This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Turn around.”
I don’t know why I obey as quickly as I do, but I open my eyes and turn around without question. I make eye contact with him, slanting my eyebrows harshly as I glare, hoping my forced attitude hides my surging nerves. I hold the phone out to him, and he takes it, and I can tell from the edges of my vision that he’s not wearing pants. My plan is to avoid looking down, but then he gestures to his left leg.
