Best Friends with the Player ✔️ (The Player #1)

Chapter Thirty-

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THE EVER GORGEOUS BARBARA PALVIN AS SANTANA! [ PICTURE GIVEN ]

P. S - PLEASE UNDERSTAND SANTANA'S INDECISIVENESS ON WHO SHE LIKES :) #NOHATEPLEASE

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Daemon didn't say a word as he tugged me along like a sheep to slaughter.

In fact, I didn't say a word as I was being tugged along like a sheep to slaughter.

I was too stunned, dumbstruck and ... well beyond shocked.

What the hell just happened?

Did Daemon really have a crush on me since sixth grade?

I stared at his profile as he surprisingly avoided the staircase to his room and led me past the kitchen and down to the wine cellar. His brows were creased together, unmeasurable fury in his eyes as his face remained in a frown. He didn't look at me once as he continued to pull me along.

His fingers were tightly laced around my hand, and frankly, it was starting to hurt.

As soon as we entered the wine cellar he released me and turned around to close the door behind him.

Then he turned around to look at me, before he paced the room, imprinting his footsteps in the marble tiles. Then he let out out a groan in frustration.

Me?

I simply stared at him, still not gathering my wits.

"This," his voice fills the room, echoing in the tiny space between us. He looks at me, an apologetic smile appearing on his handsome features. "This... that," he pauses, "was not supposed to happen like this."

He leans against the door, still keeping my gaze.

"Daemon," I word out his name, my voice so low, I'm surprised he hears me.

"San," again, the apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, about... everything."

"Everything?"

He nods. "Pushing you away. Not telling you how I feel. Letting it come out this way, in front of all those people."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know his reason, whilst maintaining my one-worded replies.

"These type of things," he pauses, a mask of regret forming, "they're not supposed to happen like this. They're supposed to be said in private, between the two people, not broadcasted in front of everyone you know."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, wanting to know why he didn't. Why he couldn't have told me. "Am I that embarrassing to you?" After all, who'd expect someone like him to like someone like me, right?

Instantly he pushes himself of the wall, and closes the distance between us within seconds, anger visible in his sapphire blue eyes. "Don't!" He growls. "Don't you dare think that!"

"Then why?" I asked, pleading him with my eyes.

"I already told you, San," he caressed my face softly, his anger dissipating, "I'm not worth your time, remember?" Then he takes one step back, giving me space to think.

"Who says? I can very well decide for myself who's worth my time!" I snapped.

He grins. "Stubborn as always. You're too innocent, pure and good for me, San. I'm the player that sleeps around; worth nothing, compared to you."

"You didn't let me choose! Did you even know how I felt these past few years? Do you know how I feel now?"

He smiles. "I know, San. God, I know. I've known since last year!"

I look up at him, questioning.

"You think I wouldn't notice the looks you give me? The anger and hurt that comes over you seeing another girl with me? Geez, San, you were always the girl I looked at, how do you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"I was too scared, San."

"Scared?"

Daemon nodded softly. "I was worried that...that" he paused. "That being with you would make me want more."

"And what's wrong with that exactly?"

"I don't want you hurt because of me San."

"And how the fuck exactly would I get hurt, huh? Other than torture of seeing you with someone else?" Tears of anger fell down my face.

"I have cancer, San."

My eyes widened. Gosh, today had too many shocks in store.

"What?"

He looks at me sadly. "Had would be the proper word. It's on recession, but there is a chance it'll be back."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

I walked up to him and slapped him, hard across the face. "I will worry. I have every fucking right to worry, you jerk! Who gives you the right to decide whether I should worry or not, huh? You're the closest person to me and you expect me not worry! What if it came back? What if you died? Would I just get a fucking phone call, telling me to come to your fucking memorial! I care about you, Daemon! Of course I should worry! Or do I not matter that much! Maybe Hannah should come instead!" I hit him on the chest once again. "Fuck you, Daemon! Fuck you! I care about you too!"

"I'm sorry, San. I'm sorry!" He pulled me into him, my face resting against his chest as the tears fell down. "I'm really sorry, honey. Really sorry. Please forgive me!"

"You're the worst friend ever, you know that?"

He nodded before he placed a kiss on my hair.

"I'll make it up to you."

"How?" I asked.

Daemon opens his mouth just as footsteps are heard from outside.

"It's perfectly alright, Juanita," Jesse's recognizable voice can be heard through the door. "I can get the wine."

I look up at Daemon, worried about our current situation.

The door knob turns just as Daemon says, "I'm sorry, San," and before I can wonder what he means, his lips are crushed against mine.