We both know you’re not all broken up about it.”
“I don’t take pleasure from you being sad, Lucas.”
“Is that right?”
She pulled the cigarette from her hand, staring out at the city. “We were never serious, but we used to talk. I’d like to think we were friends.” She pulled it back to her mouth, lips wrapped tightly around it.
Shit. Stop looking at her mouth . “Friends, huh? Friends that did far more sleeping together than actual talking?”
“And I thoroughly enjoyed both,” she said with a sly grin.She moved closer and when I blinked, she was squeezed between my body and the railing, her beautiful mouth lush and tempting. She rose up on her tiptoes, her lips close to mine. Close enough that I could almost taste them.
Juliet.
The name ripped through the fog of booze and smoke I stepped back, separating. “I need to get out of here.”
The smooth and relaxed demeanor Candi had been portraying melted as she gripped my hand, voice frantic. “I could go with you. We could talk—” When I snatched my hand away she added. “Or not.” She licked her lips suggestively. “Whatever you need.”
I felt sick...and it was exactly what I deserved. “You can’t give me what I need. You never could—and you never will.”
I stumbled down the exit ramp, debating whether I could make it into a cab before I puked my guts out. The bile rose in my throat and I retched. When I came up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, one of the girls that had been sizing me up earlier could barely look at me.
I didn’t blame her.
I didn’t want to look at myself either.
Chapter Eight: Juliet
I paused and took a long gulp of my white chocolate mocha, ignoring the fact that it had long lost the heat that made the insulated cup a requirement.
Not that it mattered. I got the grande quad shot drink for the espresso. I'd been typing up a project for the past three hours and I’d barely put a dent in the stack of papers. And I stil had to proofread it.
After Kim stopped being sympathetic to my whining and asked why I didn't just type it directly into a Word document, I gave her a look that sent her hustling to the parlor to finish her homework. It was a valid question. Writing it all out then typing it all up doubled the work I had to do. I knew I needed to put the pencil and loose leaf paper away and bang it out on my keyboard. Ignoring Lucas online was not so easy.
Even though the paper was due in two days and I still had other assignments to do on top of that, I found myself re-reading the messages he sent, clicking over to the chat box to rehash just how sorry he was. If I really wanted to be productive, I'd go invisible or block him until I was ready to talk,k but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. We hadn't spoken in days, but the thought of putting an actual wall between us just didn't feel right.
The words on the paper blurred and my fingers froze on the keyboard as I looked at the minimized tab at the bottom of my laptop screen. The last message I got was over three hours ago.
I shouldn't have thought the worse. If you could let me explain...
But no explanation was necessary. What was there to say after he freaked out based on information he got from someone that wanted to break us up? Even though I wanted it to be okay, how could I say those words when the look in his eyes proved he didn't trust me?
I tossed back the rest of my ice cold latte and tried to focus. “Maslow's hierarchy of needs states that—”
Boom, boom!
I jumped, the abrupt sound catching me off guard.
Who was it? Kim had a key so she wouldn't be knocking. Male guest hours were over a couple of hours back, so it couldn't be Lucas.
I kicked my feet off my bed and padded over to the door, pulling it open slowly.
My dorm's resident assistant, Tasha, was usually a force to be reckoned with. She was always dressed in some meticulously perfect outfit, her braids always glossy and styled. Her makeup was always flawless and
“I don’t take pleasure from you being sad, Lucas.”
“Is that right?”
She pulled the cigarette from her hand, staring out at the city. “We were never serious, but we used to talk. I’d like to think we were friends.” She pulled it back to her mouth, lips wrapped tightly around it.
Shit. Stop looking at her mouth . “Friends, huh? Friends that did far more sleeping together than actual talking?”
“And I thoroughly enjoyed both,” she said with a sly grin.She moved closer and when I blinked, she was squeezed between my body and the railing, her beautiful mouth lush and tempting. She rose up on her tiptoes, her lips close to mine. Close enough that I could almost taste them.
Juliet.
The name ripped through the fog of booze and smoke I stepped back, separating. “I need to get out of here.”
The smooth and relaxed demeanor Candi had been portraying melted as she gripped my hand, voice frantic. “I could go with you. We could talk—” When I snatched my hand away she added. “Or not.” She licked her lips suggestively. “Whatever you need.”
I felt sick...and it was exactly what I deserved. “You can’t give me what I need. You never could—and you never will.”
I stumbled down the exit ramp, debating whether I could make it into a cab before I puked my guts out. The bile rose in my throat and I retched. When I came up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, one of the girls that had been sizing me up earlier could barely look at me.
I didn’t blame her.
I didn’t want to look at myself either.
Chapter Eight: Juliet
I paused and took a long gulp of my white chocolate mocha, ignoring the fact that it had long lost the heat that made the insulated cup a requirement.
Not that it mattered. I got the grande quad shot drink for the espresso. I'd been typing up a project for the past three hours and I’d barely put a dent in the stack of papers. And I stil had to proofread it.
After Kim stopped being sympathetic to my whining and asked why I didn't just type it directly into a Word document, I gave her a look that sent her hustling to the parlor to finish her homework. It was a valid question. Writing it all out then typing it all up doubled the work I had to do. I knew I needed to put the pencil and loose leaf paper away and bang it out on my keyboard. Ignoring Lucas online was not so easy.
Even though the paper was due in two days and I still had other assignments to do on top of that, I found myself re-reading the messages he sent, clicking over to the chat box to rehash just how sorry he was. If I really wanted to be productive, I'd go invisible or block him until I was ready to talk,k but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. We hadn't spoken in days, but the thought of putting an actual wall between us just didn't feel right.
The words on the paper blurred and my fingers froze on the keyboard as I looked at the minimized tab at the bottom of my laptop screen. The last message I got was over three hours ago.
I shouldn't have thought the worse. If you could let me explain...
But no explanation was necessary. What was there to say after he freaked out based on information he got from someone that wanted to break us up? Even though I wanted it to be okay, how could I say those words when the look in his eyes proved he didn't trust me?
I tossed back the rest of my ice cold latte and tried to focus. “Maslow's hierarchy of needs states that—”
Boom, boom!
I jumped, the abrupt sound catching me off guard.
Who was it? Kim had a key so she wouldn't be knocking. Male guest hours were over a couple of hours back, so it couldn't be Lucas.
I kicked my feet off my bed and padded over to the door, pulling it open slowly.
My dorm's resident assistant, Tasha, was usually a force to be reckoned with. She was always dressed in some meticulously perfect outfit, her braids always glossy and styled. Her makeup was always flawless and
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