Page 102 of Darkest Obsession

“You kissed back,” I whisper.

I didn’t want to let go of her, but I know she’ll draw blood if I don’t.

“I’m not who you want,” she says with far too much self-assurance. “I’m not.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You don’t know me, Thomas,” she says.

“That’s the point, Clover. I want to know you. I want…”

I don’t back away from her. I can’t make myself. I want so much from her. I like her. I really like her. And I know that she likes me too.

“Someone wants to kill both of us just for talking,” she says before I can finish my thought. “We don’t belong together, Thomas. Move on. Date someone else or something.”

“Perhaps I will,” I tell her. “But there isn’t a girl on this planet who could ever make me get over you.”

“You’ve met every girl?” she shoots back.

“I don’t have to. I’ve seen the world, Clover. I’ve seen everything that’s out there, and I just want a girl who’s tough. Gorgeous. A girl I can’t stop fucking thinking about. That’s you. It’s been you from the first time I saw you.”

“Stop,” she whispers. “We’re going to have our fight, you’re going to fake date Kola, and we’re going to get out of this and hopefully never talk to each other again.”

“You’ll keep the flowers?”

She pauses and bites her lower lip.

“If you leave, I’ll keep the flowers.”

“Goodbye, Clover.”

Her shoulders relax, but she won’t meet my gaze. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

That’s it between us, isn’t it? I have my answer from Clover. She doesn’t want me.

Chapter Forty-Five

Clover

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I feel like a dramatic teenage girl for hating myself and having the thought pounding in my head, but it’s true. I hate myself for everything I said to Thomas and I hate myself for keeping those stupid sunflowers even after everything I told him. I don’t have a right to those sunflowers.

He got them because he knows they’re my favorite.

Everyone comes to my room to get ready for the Halloween party. Molly says she isn’t coming to the party until later so she can get homework done, so she declined my offer to get ready with us. Kit may be an annoying pain in the ass, but at least he doesn’t care that everyone at his party is ‘cool’ or on a sports team. He invited everyone personally, even the “loser kids” he bullies.

He just wants everyone in the year to have fun — and he wants to keep sexually harassing me, which appears to still be one of his favorite hobbies. At least at the DJ booth, I have a platform I can shove him off of if he tries touching my butt. Again. I know I could get Thomas to make him stop, but I can’t imagine

At least with my group of girls around me, we can fend him off when the actual party begins. My fake fight in the dining hall with Thomas went well. It helps that we were actually pissed off at each other. Sylvia had a script for me and keeps pointing out how we both went off script.

I called him a gangly freak and he told me I had an attitude worse than a sunburnt hippopotamus. That is not a word you want a British man to call you. It sounds like a worse insult in that stupid posh British accent. When I start throwing books at his head, Sylvia makes a big show of breaking up our fight, but I scream a very genuine “I hate you” at Thomas Bainbridge.

Still — there are sunflowers on my desk and at night, whenever I hear a noise outside, I run to my window as if I would really appreciate a tall boy climbing up to keep me company. I told Molly about the fight and she assures me that Thomas isn’t worth my time. She suggests that I date Roger — you know, from the dance team. He’s straight, she points out, which is a good point, but I’d like to think my standards are a little higher than a boy just being straight.

My standards should be higher than Thomas Bainbridge too. Who am I kidding? He would be miles better than any guy I’ve ever let kiss me. He’s the most handsome guy I’ve kissed, but I don’t want his arrogant ass to know that. We just need to nab this spicy freak and we can get out of each other’s lives forever. We can’t seem to stop fighting or letting our feelings for each other drive us fucking crazy.

Kola enters my bedroom first, carrying our costumes from the mailroom. We ordered everything together on her account so we could get the 30% off discount in time for Halloween. No one here does homemade costumes, so at least that part is similar to life back in California. I was afraid I would have to become a goddess of arts and craft when I can barely get a Post-It note to stick to my desk. I’m more of a dancer than that sort of creative.

“These leotards had better make my ass look good,” Kola grunts as she throws the heavy box with costumes and accessories onto my bed. “Let’s unwrap these.”