𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

30

Davina Martinez's pov;

WHAT HAD I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO? Why did it feel like this? I didn't realize fully how badly I had wanted this, wanted him. But I had been irrational, stupid, foolish. Colson Baker was not a thing to be had, or to be wanted. He would never fit in a norm, he would never be all that I want and I wasn't ready to go ahead knowing that fact.

When had I ever had all that I wanted? At home in Mom and Mickey, yes, but my life outside of that had always been more than half empty. And now, what was I doing? Was I only just collecting broken things to fill a void? If this was so wrong, why does it not feel that way?

I was in Colson's rental Camaro, fixing my dress and slowly reaching behind to zip it back up again. He had just placed me the car, in the front passenger seat. No words had crossed his lips, and he hadn't touched me again. Then he had seated himself behind the wheel, and before I knew it, we were whizzing past London streets as the sky dimmed overhead, afternoon melting into the soft colors of the evening.

"Why did you take me there?" I spoke the question out loud, disturbing the stillness inside the car-the stillness that had felt like lead in the air.

"Did you not think it would hurt me? Why couldn't you just wait?"

I peered at him, willing back tears. No, I will not cry again.

"Wait?" He raised a brow, his eyes on the road. "So that you could come to hate me later?"

"I don't want to hate you," I said, my voice a whisper. "Do you want me to hate you?"

He swallowed, suddenly solemn, as though the question he hadn't hoped would come up, had just come up, catching him by surprise in the process.

"Yes," He let out, the word poison on his tongue as he clenched his jaw. "I want you to hate me. I liked it that way."

Hurt surfaced inside me, a confused sort of hurt that my body couldn't respond to.

"Then you thought wrong," I offered, turning away from him to look outside the tinted window of the car, before looking at him again.

"I feared you, disliked you," I swallowed the lump in my throat, "But it was never hate, because if it were, you wouldn't be able to get to me as you do. The people you hate can never truly hurt you, because you always have a constant wall to keep them out after their first impact."

My eyes dropped to my hands in my lap.

"It's those you love that hurt you. So hate doesn't matter like you think it does."

Colson didn't say anything, plunging the car into silence. I could see a visible vein throb at his tight jaw, and his bruised knuckles on his left hand turned paler by the second as his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Letting an overwhelming urge win, I leaned in and touched his free hand at the side as he stiffened. Slowly, I trailed my fingers at his wrist, the touch so small as I basically hovered my skin over his. With a frustrated grunt, he used that hand to grab mine, snatching it from me aggressively and bringing the back of my palm to his lips.

His slender fingers felt firm and protective over mine, and the touch of his lips sent a shiver down my entire arm. It was crazy how he could touch me and it would always feel like the first time, like nothing I had ever felt before.

"Say my name," He let out, his breath heavy as he glanced at me, before fixing his eyes back on the road.

My brows furrowed in confusion. Hadn't he just told me not to say it unnecessarily?