An ugly fire roars in the pit of my stomach as I watch them interact from where I sit. Alara says something, as usual animated with her hands, while the guy stares down at her like she’s a work of art.
Well, she is. But she’s mine.
I’ve never thought of myself as someone who’s possessive, but when it comes to her? I so badly want to claim her as mine. Claim myself as hers. I’ve never cared for someone else the way I care for her. She’s also the first woman I’ve let in, and that says a lot about the level of trust we have for one another.
Sometimes, I want to be more than her “friend with benefits”. I want to give her unconditional adoration. Buy her beautiful flowers. Take her out on unforgettable dates. Make her endlessly happy and smile beautifully.
All those sudden feelings mixing with that unwelcomed jealousy . . .
The realization hits me like a violent gust of wind, nearly knocking me off my chair.
“Sorry.” Jordan’s voice filters through the confusion fogging my mind, but I don’t look at him. I keep staring at Alara. Like she’s the only person I’ll ever see in a place full of people. “Business going crazy at the moment. Alara is seriously a godsend; the video she posted earlier this week almost got me a million views.”
“Speaking of the devil,” I say, jerking my chin at where she stands. “Who’s that with her?”
I see Jordan follow my line of sight. “Ah, that’s Kyle. Her ex.”
My jaw tightens as misplaced bitterness claws at my too-tight throat.
“They didn’t date for long,” Jordan continues, completely oblivious to my reaction. “They were together for a couple months, like three years ago.”
“Why did it end?” Hopefully I appear nonchalant, even though I could punch that motherfucking Kyle for looking at my girl like this.
“He wanted casual, she didn’t. Alara is someone who wants a full relationship. She’s not into casual dating or flings, so that’s why. Besides, he studied in Cali, so the long distance was hard for her.”
This piece of information leaves me dazed and speechless. It starts to dawn on me that Alara’s an all-in type of woman, and what I’m giving her is scraps of what she truly wants and deserves.
How much more of an asshole can I be?
She doesn’t want casual. She wants everything, but I wasn’t aware of that.
Something doesn’t sit right with me.
I hate that I’m treating her this way, and she deserves more than that.
Losing Alara is not an option, but I don’t think I’m capable of giving her what she wants.
So, where does that leave us?
When I get home around 10 p.m., my sisters are lounging on the couch while watching the telenovella they’ve been obsessed with – something about a single mother returning to her hometown and falling for a single dad. Mom’s nowhere in sight, but I’m assuming she’s already in bed because of the long shifts she’s been working lately. Taking a quick glance around the kitchen, I gather some empty plates that were left by the sink and load them into the dishwasher.
After rapidly clearing up, I grab myself a glass and fill it withtap water before leaning my hip against the counter and absently staring at the fridge, which is covered in pictures and postcards.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and, when I take it out, a smile instantly blooms on my face.
Pretty girl:Attachment: 1 image
Pretty girl:Tabby’s been sleeping on the sweater you left on my bed
I zoom in on the picture of Tabby curled up on my grey sweater, saving it to my camera roll without even thinking. The cat’s grown on me, okay? I’m still not an animal person, but I’m definitely a Tabby person.
Me:The sweater was purposely left for you. It’d look better on you anyway
Pretty girl:Attachment: 1 image
Pretty girl:Do I have your approval?
Biting on my knuckles, I stifle a groan as I run my gaze over the latest picture she sent. It’s a shot of her standing in front of her full-length mirror, wearing my sweater. Knee-high socks. Red lacy thong. She holds one end of the large jumper over her hip, giving me a peak at her panties. Alara’s going to kill me at this rate.
