So like arrogant, defiant lovers, we gave each other secret names, names only meant for us: Roman and Fae.
What a stupid idea to call each other by different names.
What a stupid fucking thing: first love.
One minute it’s life and the next, it’s death.
That’s what it felt like when he broke my heart. That I’d died and so in this moment, I pull myself together and straighten my spine.
It’s hard but it needs to be done.
When you fall in love with a quicksand of a guy like him, you need to be strong.
Your heart needs to be made of iron and your spine needs to be forged out of steel so you can look him in the eyes and tell him, “I remember. I remember everything. I remember everything I said to you and everything you said to me. And that’s why I know that wearea teenage tragedy. Because you made sure of that, didn’t you?” I clench my teeth for a second because I feel a pain starting up in my chest, traveling up to my jaw, my temples, stinging my eyes. “So get away from me because I wasn’t kidding about you losing your teeth.Reed.”
For a few seconds after I’m done, it feels like I haven’t spoken at all.
Because he doesn’t move. In fact, he bends down toward me even more.
Our eyes are connected, his gaze calm and scrutinizing while mine is wide and fearful of his intentions. A microsecond later, I feel something happening, something slipping from my fingers before he straightens back up.
It’s my bottle. He stole my whiskey from me.
I fist my empty hands. “Give it back.”
Again instead of obeying me, he throws his head back and swallows down a huge gulp of my whiskey. Asshole.
When he’s done, his red lips glisten and his face sparkles like the moon. “See you around, Fae.”
And then he’s gone and I can breathe.
But it’s not as glorious, to be able to breathe, as I thought it would be.
Because with every breath that I take, I think of him.
I think of how beautiful he is, how gorgeous. How he looks like a prince. A hero. And how it’s all a façade.
Because he’s anything but a hero. He’s a villain.
A gorgeous villain.
