Laughter ripples through the courtyard, and Rianna’s face flushes an almost comical shade of red.
"I—I—I feel sorry for you," Rianna says to me.
I close the distance between us and reach out to pat her cheek. "Funny enough, I don't think about you at all."
With a screech, she turns away and only makes it a few steps before some guy sticks his foot out in front of her, sending her crashing to the ground.
"Spunk-chariots belong on the ground where they're most useful," he drawls before shooting me a wink and walking away with his buddies.
A small, stubborn part of me feels sorry for her—the part that exists thanks to Joely. But I ignore it, stepping around her and heading for the brick building.
Keaton waits at the top of the steps. For a moment, I let him see every ounce of pain and hatred in my eyes before I wipe them clean, acting as if he’s invisible.
As I pass him and reach for the door, he tries to touch me, but Amelia lets go of my arm so fast I nearly stumble.
He grunts as she shoves her fist into his gut. "Do not touch her." He nods, but she's not done with him. "Say, Keaton. Did you get your results back yet? Is your dick going to fall off?"
"I'm waiting on the results," he admits in a quiet, husky voice as he rubs his stomach.
I don't stick around to hear anything else.
So much for making him eat his heart out.
Trust Rianna and Keaton to ruin my one shot at a dramatic exit from this bullshit.
Cheesy Pick Up Lines and Tingly Hands
Charlie | The Past
Mystomachrumblesinprotest as I prod at my salad. Since Friday night, food barely stays down, and now my body is staging a full-blown rebellion.
Why on earth did I let Amelia drag me into the chaos of the mess hall today?
"Charlie, will you please talk to me?"
At the sound of his voice, I force a forkful of salad past the lump in my throat and finally meet his gaze.
His dark brown hair is a wild tangle, as if his fingers have been at war with it all morning.
Or maybe it’s her hands that have left their mark.
His dark green eyes are a swirling storm of emotion—remorse, pain, regret, self-loathing, love, sorrow—all tangled together until I can’t tell where one ends and another begins.
His usually sun-kissed skin looks ghostly, and the bruises on his face bloom in ugly shades of purple, green, and yellow.
Somewhere beneath the shattered pieces of my soul, a flicker of pity for him survives. But I’d have to sift through too much wreckage to reach it, and I just can’t right now.
"No," I reply in an empty voice, turning away from him and glaring down at my salad.
"I'm sorry, Char. I won't stop trying to fix this. I love you."
I smack my palms onto the table. "Just stop! Stop saying that." Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose while I lock my shit back down before looking back at him. "You don't do what you did to someone you're in love with, Keaton. I don't doubt that you love me. You can't be with someone as long as we have and not at least love them a little, but no way in hell do I believe you're in love with me. Not like I was you. So, please. Just stop saying that because I'm never going to believe you. Now, would you run along? I'd like to finish my lunch. I haven't eaten in two days, and right now, the sight of you is making my stomach churn."
He jams his hands into his pockets and smiles sadly at me. "You're wrong, Charlie, and that's okay. It's my fault you don't believe me. I was stupid and fucked up, but I told you the truth. One day, you're going to believe me. Even if it's not until the day I take my last breath."
"I could make that happen today," Amelia mutters so low that I don't think Keaton's heard her.
He nods at her, proving me wrong. "You could, and I wouldn't stop you. I'm sorry, Amelia. For hurting Char and for hurting you. I know I'm a disappointment and that I've let everyone down, including myself. But I'm going to make it right. Whatever the hell it takes, I'm going to heal her."
