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26 year old, Connor Deluca, is a professional Hockey player in the NHL; who just moved into the expensive Citrus Grove Community.
23 year old, Serena Jade, is the recluse famous author known to the public only under her pen name Skylyn Voss, and...
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Connor was seeing the world in black and white, mixes of gray and ash. Everything drained of color almost completely. The only thing he could effectively see was red. The second he stepped out of her house and into the world he now faced, nothing felt like it was real.
His chest was hollowed out. The slow beating of his heart reverberated throughout the cavity of his body, reminding him exactly how void it was. All that really remained now, as the sun scorned through his blinds, was the dizzy alcohol numbing his system.
He had been trying desperately to wrap his head around how that evening turned so quickly to shit and exploded in his face, to no avail.
It had such bright expectations. He wanted to ask, beg, and plead for Serena to be his girlfriend. He was prepared to do whatever he needed to get his girl.
He wanted to explore what they had, dive into the unknown but incredible feelings that sparked between them head first. He wanted to admit the crushing love that compressed his lungs every time he laid his eyes on her, the desire he had to make her completely his.
Instead of all that, though, they crumbled completely apart in the span of maybe two hours.
It made him question if what they had was even real or a courtesy she was doing because he had basically cried to her about loving Skylyn. All just stupid guilt she was secretly harboring. He couldn't be sure.
She was the author, the one that saved him, the one he obsessed over the better part of his life. She had been here the whole time and didn't say anything. Just thinking about it now gutted him, made his heart wrench in his chest. Because if she would have been honest with him, told him instead of refusing to give even an ounce of her fragile trust to anyone, he would have been elated it was her.
Now they both were sitting in the ruins of their already rocky relationship, the little trust they managed to build in the desolation around them both.
Now Connor just felt betrayed, heartbroken, and stupid. However, being angry was easier to feel than any of those, and that's what he was.
Really fucking angry.
He had left her house in a fit, that hole in his gaping chest bleeding out around him. All of the emotions from the loaded night spiraling around him, making his heart race and his lungs work hard to supply air to the raging fire inside of his body. It was too much. All of it was too much to feel at once.
The love, the questions, the betrayal, the confusion, the anger. All of it is too much to feel. His eyes burned, and before he knew it streaming down his face were strokes of broiling tears.
The water that was making his face messy now only made that searing red anger burn hotter. This was his whole reason for avoiding this bullshit in the first place, and it never got anywhere besides hurting someone.
