“This isn’t over,” I mutter.
This time it’s a vow.
Not a hope.
A promise.
Chapter 8
JADE
I slamthe bathroom door and turn the shower on so hot it steam-fogs the mirror in seconds.
I get in anyway.
I scrub my skin like I’m trying to erase whatever just happened in the backyard.
His face.
His voice.
The way he saidstop running, Jade.
I hate him.
No—
I hate that he still affects me.
I hate that my heart jumped the second I saw him.
I hate that his scent, his stupid cologne, is still in my head.
I hate that I’m not over him.
Worst of all?—
I hate that I still want him.
My chest tightens and the heat of the water doesn’t stop the shaking.
Everything in me is just… mixed now.
Rage, desire, humiliation, longing—all tangled so tight I can’t tell one from the other.
By the time I shut the water off, I’m shaking hard enough I have to grab the counter to steady myself.
I towel off, put on leggings and a worn hoodie Irene loaned me, and blow out a long breath.
My phone flashes on the nightstand.
Tristan has been blowing it up.
Ten missed calls.
Eight texts.
Homegirl answer your damn phone
