Page 96 of Midnight Curfew
He doesn’t give a shit about Liv.
He stalks me. “You don’t know me.”
“I do.”
Grabbing me, he pulls me up and slams me into the wall. “You never knew me!”
I can’t help the tear that spills over. “I did.”
I paid attention to everything. He hates quiet. He’s always listening to something. He likes ketchup on fries but doesn’t like it on anything else. He doesn’t have enough patience for movies. He googles the ending before it’s over.
And he breaks out in goose bumps every time his neck is kissed.
His hand lands across my face, my neck aching as it’s whipped to the side.
Clutching my collar again, he gets in my face.
“I hate what I just did,” I breathe out. “And it’ll be in my head forever.”
I wanted him so badly, I had to make him hate me so he’d feel something for me.
“You don’t feel badly, do you?” I ask him.
He glares at me. “What the fuck for?”
What for?
I open my mouth, but no words come out. How can he be like this?
“For not calling me,” I say. “You just threw me away. You didn’t text me.”
Was it all a fucking lie? I didn’t imagine it.
He…
He liked me. Didn’t he?
But he just shakes his head. “You stupid fucking kid.”
No.
No.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head, and he throws me to the ground.
“Did you think we were falling in love?” he asks, his voice suddenly light and mocking.
He squats down next to me. “Maybe someday, when you have a wife,” he tells me, “I’ll do you both. Would you like that?”
I clench my jaw, trying to get back up.
But he pushes my head back down, keeping me on the floor. “Here’s what I like so you marry accordingly,” he pants in my ear. “Brunettes with blue eyes, tits at least a handful, and if she doesn’t wear underwear, that’s a plus. I love bare pussy.”
Tears spill down my face. Jesus Christ.
Pain wracks my brain. He doesn’t want me.
He hates me.
