“That’s me,”I’d said, and climbed into the back seat.
That was forty minutes ago, and the reality of what happened tonight has just hit me.
It’s over. Lando and I are over.
I mean, it was never supposed to be a thing to begin with. Never meant to go this far. We were supposed to be a one-night hookup only.
How did I let myself fall in love with him?
Though it wasn’t exactly difficult. It’s not like he made falling in love with him a gruelling task. Not with that stupid perfect face of his, and that stupid elvish bone structure. Not with that suaveness and impeccable dress sense, and that “only ever wear black even in the summer” style. That incredible body, those long slender fingers, and that smooth as fucking silk skin. Not with the way he kisses me, the way he holds me, the way he strokes my hair and makes me feel seen and wanted and . . .
No, Harry, stop it. You don’t love him.
You actually hate him.
You hate him.
He warned me right at the beginning what he was like.
“Will you ghost me? After we’ve fucked,”I’d said.
“Probably. Is that a deal breaker?”he’d replied.
Daisy warned me.
“You should know that he will fuck you and then delete you from existence. So if you’re not looking for a one-night-stand, if you’re looking for something with more . . . meaning, you won’t find it with Lan.”
The way he continued to warn me.
“We can never be more than just friends.”
“No snuggles either. That’s not what friends do.”
“You’re literally my most favourite person in the whole world, and I really, really just want to see you happy.”
It’s not all my fault. Heletme fall in love with him. Not just let me, but actively encouraged me to.
He’d gifted me a two-hundred-pound bottle of perfume right off the bat, even though I can’t fucking smell anything.
He made me breakfast, and looked after me when I was drunk and sick, listened to me rant about Mathias Jones and never, never called me out onmy bullshit. Who would do something like that to someone they have no intentions with?
He gave me no choice but to fall in love with him.
Lando should have put a stop to it right at the beginning. If he knew back then that it could never go anywhere more meaningful, why the fuck did he let me get sucked in so deeply?
I hate him.
Why did he cuddle me, and suck my dick, and tell me how beautiful I am?
Why did he send me naked pictures of himself, and cook for me, and shit in front of me?
Who shits in front of someone they don’t love?
I hate him.
I resist the urge to call him, text him, check his Instagram, look through the photos of us.
I miss him.
