Page 145 of The Carnage We Keep

Nope.

Not one bit.

Such a lie. Ari and boba notwithstanding, my mood instantly darkens.

It’s been two nights since that night.

The “wolf pack” night.

The night Damiano and I apparently decided to say fuck it and, well, fuck.

Several times.

Five, to be exact, including the last time, when he pounded me bent over the control board in the security room of the club after we wiped the security tapes.

Now, why, one might ask, am I hiding a seething ball of black rage behind my facade?

Well, the short version is, I saw a hilarious video on Insta yesterday where a tiny feral black kitten is pestering the living shit out of this giant mastiff who’s clearly trying to sleep. But the kitten keeps whacking it in the face, poking its nose, biting its ears, at one point even taking a swipe at the poor thing’s balls.

Anyway, I sent it to Damiano with the message “This must be what dealing with me is like. I regret nothing, but having been forced to confront how fucking annoying I am, I acknowledge your suffering.”

That was almost twenty-four hours ago, and the motherfucker hasn’t replied. Like, at all. No thumbs up. No cry-laughing emoji. Not even a casual “OMG Bella you’re hilarious and a queen and wtf your pussy is fucking fire” comment.

Nothing.

I hate how stabby and pissy that makes me.

We are not in a relationship. And I’m not some naive, inexperienced girl who just made the mistake of conflating sex with “a relationship” or “feelings”.

Even if the sex was fan-fucking-tastic.

I wasn’t asking him to take me to dinner, or buy me flowers, or go to fucking prom with me. I was just trying to be funny.

I mean we can be funny even if we’re “not real”, right?

I glance at my phone again. Nope.

Fuck you.

Arianna’s phone lights up in the fading evening light of the tea garden. She glances at it, then very quickly scoops it up to read the message.

I quirk a brow. “Who’s that?”

She glances up at me. “Huh?”

I nod at her phone. Her face darkens before she frowns and shakes her head.

“Nothing. Sorry. Just the girls chain.”

She glances at her phone again before putting it face-down on the table. Then she gives me a look.

“You know they’d love you, right?”

I shrug. “Obviously.”

Ari giggles. “I’m serious.”

I exhale. “You know me. I don’t do well with, like, friends. Especially girls.”