I’m gaping and blinking at my friends. “What?”
Rowan wouldn’t name his entire business—hislivelihood—after one ofmyfavorite movies. And then…Then he fucks me like that and ruins me.
Rowan Asher ruined me and it only took one time. If I hadn’t ran out of his house, he would have continued ruining me—shredding me and tearing me to tiny unrecognizable bits. I couldn’t let that happen. I’m doing well. I’m doing much better.
Even if I know that Rowan isn’t the man that would hurt me, I am the person that would hurt him.
“There’s one more thing,” I mutter and continue kneading the dough on the workstation opposite my friends. “RowanandIhadsex,” I mumble under my breath.
“What?” they both shriek.
“RowanandIhadsex,” I slur again as I keep kneading.
Lana laughs first. “I’m sorry.” She keeps laughing. “What?You?—”
“You had sex withRowan?” Isabelle gasps. “Rowan!”
“Yes. Shut up,” I mutter and flip the dough, adding flour.
My friends snicker amongst themselves, and I try to keep the memories at bay so I don’t feel that flip in my stomach caused by the images in my mind. So I don’t inevitably turn myself on from the permanent memory of Rowan’s nakedbody on top of, and behind mine. And the permanent memory ofhim.I’m so fucking fucked.
The uncertainty inside of me somehow makes me feel hollow. Like I don’t know what to feel so I don’t want to feel it at all.
“When!”Isabelle squeals.
“Um…” I pause and the girls stare at me with wide eyes that say,We’re waiting.“Last week. On…On Halloween.”
“I knew it!” Lana chuckles, victorious. “I knew it. I toldyou.” She points to Isa. “And I told Christian. I knew it was your car still parked outside.
“Damn it.”
Isa laughs quietly then carefully asks, “Was it good?”
I nod, cutting the dough. “Yeah. Really,reallygood. Like...dangerouslygood.”
Their eyes go round.
“Then…what’s wrong?” Isa asks.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
I’m not okay enough. I’m not in the space for it. Who wants someone who hates themself? Who wants someone with the scars I have, the sadness I carry, the weight breaking my spine, and darkness infiltrating my mind.
Some days, I think these thoughts are a pity party—something ignorant social media opinions have put into my head, until I went back to therapy. But it isn’t a pity party, they are my thoughts. Most people don’t get that. If I said all my thoughts out loud, they’d tell me to get over it—to just be happy, as if it were that easy.
If it were, trust me, I’d have done it a long time ago.
I’d have stopped my “pity party” and uninvited the meanthings that live in my head. But it isn’t up to me. I’m not the host and it isn’t a party being thrown for me.
“Did he…” Lana pauses, casting a glance to Isabelle then back to me. “Did he do something?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like…did he force you?—”
“What?No! Oh my god, no. It’sRowanfor fuck’s sake.”
“Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure.” Lana holds up her hands.
