Page 39 of Bitter Lies

His face darkens with anger, and I smile because I’m not interested in sweet Halsey anymore.

If he wants to be a dick, bring it. I’m past the point of caring about him, Jason fucking Macklemore, his jerk friends, Max, and anyone else. This is the new fucking me, and she’s rising from the fucking ashes of her pain, ready to burn the world to the ground.

After class, I walk briskly away, only turning when Griffin grabs my arm and looms over my face. “What, we’re being childish now?”

Smiling, I raise a sardonic brow as I say coldly, “Let’s not pretend. You don’t fucking care about me, and I fucking hate your guts.”

He drops my arm, his brows slamming over his eyes before his mouth curves in a cruel smile. “Is that right? I don’t think you hate me, sweetheart. After all, don’t you love me?”

Laughing in his face, I spit at him, “That was all a lie, Griffin.”

“Oh?” he mutters, clenching his jaw so hard the muscle ticks. “So, you did lie?”

“Yes, you asshole. I lied to myself because the boy I knew wasn’t a cruel fucking monster, but don’t worry. I’m good now.”

“Good, because your constant cow eyes were getting old.”

Pausing, we stare at each other, and absently I note his right eye twitching as I glare at him with shock, quite sure that there are no depths to which he won’t sink. And then slowly, I shake my head, smiling at him sadly. “You don’t fucking deserve me, and you don’t matter. Stay the fuck away from me.”

His mouth pulls into a pained smirk, as he searches my eyes with a darkness I don’t understand, before he hesitates but mutters, “Gladly.”

And I turn and walk away, glancing back when I round the corner of the building to see him staring after me with a stark expression.

∞∞∞

Lying on the bed, I stare at the ceiling as a motherfucking party rages in the living room, this time on a weeknight. I swear Griffin does this for the sole purpose of pissing me off. Then again, he’d have to care to do so, and we’ve established he’s not fucking capable.

Turning to my side, I sigh and punch my pillow, but the sounds are too much, the constant pulse of the bass resounding in my skull, and finally, I emerge, throwing off the blankets and leaving the room.

At least in my rage, the damn music that usually cuts my insides has no effect, and it’s not for any good reason, but I’ll take the boon.

Most of the action is in the main area, although many congregate outside, and walking through the living space, I spy the object of my frustration standing with a group of guys.

He’s so fucking hot that even in my hate, I admire his thick arms bulging with muscle and straining against his tee, along with the peek at his waistband as he raises his arm, a mouthwatering sight, as his beautiful lips pull back in a delicious smile.

All of which falls flat when he glances up, and our eyes meet, his mouth curving in an amused smirk at catching me out.

Dick.

Of course, my cheeks burn, and I turn away quickly, almost bumping into Hogan, who gives me a broad smile. “Halsey, hey, how’ve you been?”

“Hey, good. How about you?” I ask, smiling through my torment because even in this, I want Griffin to suffer. But for what? He doesn’t fucking care!

But when my neck tingles, I glance sideways out the door and meet Griffin’s heated glare as he looks between Hogan and me. Is this a game or something more? I don’t know, and I’m all kinds of confused.

Still, I refuse to let him see beyond my mask of loathing, which is why I give him a wicked smile and turn back to Hogan, whose eyes are bright with longing.

I’m not up for another grope fest, and we’re better off friends, but Hogan’s friendly smile sways me to linger because he’s blissfully free from the complications of my fucked-up life. I need a little normal right about now.

“Fine, you know. Wanna go somewhere quieter?” Hogan says.

“Sure.” I know this is foolish because I have no plans to take this any further.

Hogan isn’t my speed—the dick behind me is—and until I can get past it, I have a feeling no one else will do, but I’m petty enough knowing he’s still glaring to make Griffin suffer. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well bring him down with me. Although, I’m not sure if his heated reaction means he cares, because at this point, I have no fucking clue.

“Hey, Hogan,” some dude calls out,

Hogan steps away, saying, “One sec, ’kay?”

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