Prologue
KAMILA
March - Spring Semester - Sophomore Year
Ithink I’m incapable of being in love.
Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic. A better way to phrase it would be, I’ve never beeninlove. While love has been shown to me in a myriad of ways during my nineteen and a half years of life, whether physically, emotionally, or through loyalty, I still have a few trust issues that keep me from experiencing a romantic kind of love. Fine, I might have more than afewtrust issues stopping me, but I am capable of loving people.
I’ve been lucky enough to experience the emotion and have it reciprocated by friends and family. However, all of my experiences have been platonic as far as I’m aware. As I said, I’ve never been in love with anyone. Nobody has ever been in love with me. And that is something I am okay with. In fact, I prefer it that way. Neater. Easier. Painless.
That was until thirty seconds ago when the naked man next to me practically burst at the seams, admitting his true feelings.
The problem? Well, one of the many…he barely knows me. And now, I’m sitting here like a fish out of water, not knowing what the hell to say.
“Kamila?” He snaps his fingers near my face, bringing me out of my stupor.
How long did I zone out for?
Okay, say something, anything.
“Sorry…I…um, got distracted.” Clearing my dry throat, I voice my unsureness. “Did you just say you were in love with me?”
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Yes. I’m in love with you.”
My mouth falls open again, still not knowing what to say. This time, he closes it with a finger to my chin. Incoherent thoughts run through my head, making the room spin.
Meanwhile, he’s waiting for a response, any kind of response.
Like I said before, the guy barely knows me. When I really think about it, he sticks to talking about himself most of the time which makes this all the more confusing.
“Earth to Kamila?”
Dave’s eyes shift back and forth between mine, clearly trying to read what’s going on inside my head. And if he knew me or even listened to me at all, he would know what I was thinking.
This is a disaster.
This was supposed to be simple.
It should’ve never gone this far.
I warned him.
“I’m sorry. I’m just processing,” I explain slowly.
His eyes narrow. “What the hell is there to process Kamila? I just told you I love you, and I know for a fact that you feel the same way. The signs are there.”
Now it’s my turn to gape at him. “Signs?”
He nods.
“What signs?”
He sits up, the sheet slipping from his bare chest down to his v-line. “The looks you give me when you think I’m not payingattention to you or how many times I can make you come when we fuck.” A cocky smile spreads across his face. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Holy shit. This beautiful man is insane.
Is this what love means to him? Orgasms and looks that I’m one hundred percent certain weren’t of love. Lust, sure, but never love. We didn’t even go as far as to cuddle afterward, and he never sleeps over. Those were and are my limits. I set them as soon as we started having sex.
