Wicked Love | √

Fifteen

HIS hand tightening around my neck. His lips roughly pressed against mine. His fingers moving wildly inside me. Him. Him. Him. Him.

"Jameson!" Elizabeth shouts my name from the kitchen and I snap out of the thick haze that has hung around my thoughts for the past two days.

Ever since my kiss with Preston I've been spiraling into an internal panic. I'm drowning in the memories of us together in that dark room where I shed all my doubts and let myself fall into everything I didn't know I wanted. He made me lose my mind and shattered everything I thought I knew, but he also somehow pieced together every part of me that I thought would forever be damaged and burned.

When I wasn't thinking of the mind blowing kiss and orgasm all I could focus on were the words he said before he walked out the door.

Preston said I wasn't wrong to call him a murderer.

Was he just wallowing in self-pity or was there actually something to his words?

His version of the truth is vague and has left me swimming in a terrifying ocean of confusion. But his actions and the way he treats me don't align with those words he left me alone with.

Words that have coiled within me like a deadly snake. Tense and ready to attack at the slightest provocation.

Everything has become so muddled and warped that I can barely decipher what's the truth and what's the lie. I hate not knowing the truth.

I hate being left alone wandering in the dark.

"Are you ok?" my roommate Annabelle asks from beside me on the couch. Her short hair is clipped back as a thick charcoal mask rests on her face.

I fall back into the cushions with a sigh. "Yeah," I tell them as I focus on the textbook in my lap and get back to writing my notes. I'm taking a course on French literature and we are focusing on women in writing and I've been loving it so far. But at this moment I couldn't care less.

We are deep in the middle of midterms and the ones I've completed I've felt confident on. But I still have my hardest midterm looming over my head, and I'm completely on edge the closer it gets. It's my last midterm and will account for 33% of my grade meaning if I don't ace it there isn't much I can do to pull my grade up in that class. I'm hovering on a solid B but I want more. I know I can achieve more because no one works harder than me.

I will never be Preston or Aiden who are naturals and barely have to try and even though it pisses me off to no end I use that to my advantage. I might have to work twice as hard to beat them, but I don't mind because it does in fact mean beating them in the end. Being the best. Succeeding.

And I will do anything to achieve that goal.

"You want a drink?" Elizabeth asks with a soft laugh as she fixes herself one. She's mixing herself a martini, the dirtier the better.

I know she's expecting me to say no. I usually say no.

But not today.

"Yes," I answer immediately.

"What?" Both my roommate and her cousin ask at once as they regard me with bewildered looks.

"Give me whatever. Actually tequila. Shots. Many, many shots," I tell her as I continue to write in my notebook dragging my pen across the paper so harshly the paper rips under the force.

"Whoa..." Annebelle trails with worry reflecting in her brown eyes.

"What's up with you?" Elizabeth asks, leaning over the counter looking at me with a quizzical gaze.