Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

4. Win

4

Win

T he hazel eyes boring into me are familiar and foreign.

They’re bloodshot, drawing out more green than gold. A somber blanket smothers the once brilliant brightness that seeped from his core into the world. Tousled light brown waves hang over his forehead almost hiding the line forming between his brows.

The trance breaks when a freight train slams into my side.

“Sorry bro,” someone laughs, but it sounds far away. I’m underwater hundreds of feet below the surface as a weight tied to my foot drags me down to icy depths.

The organ I thought was shredded beyond recognition is shredding itself further. The more I look, the worse it gets. An empty Solo cup falls from his hand. There’s a frown on his perfect lips. Not only is he here, in this place we swore we’d escape, but there’s a gorgeous woman’s palm on his thigh.

You did this .

This shell of him is my death sentence. It’s an electric chair. It’s a lethal injection. It’s a noose.

The fire is back under my ass. My legs are moving but they’re moving in the wrong direction. They’re headed to the kitchen where temptation lines the counters in glass bottles.

I make it five steps before my name is called again. A hand grasps my bicep.

“Thought I lost you,” Jay says, pressing a bottle of water into my chest.

All I see is the endless supply of liquor luring me with its siren song.

“I gotta go,” I stammer despite being rooted to the floor.

Jay’s smile veers toward forced.

“But we just got here.”

A verbal response is impossible. There’s bile filling my mouth. Or am I salivating for a hit of something— anything— to hold these mangled pieces of myself together a little longer?

Long red nails dig into Jay’s shoulder, spinning him halfway around. The stunning brunette from the couch barely spares him a glance; her heavily lined eyes shoot daggers at me.

Clearly, this nightmare doesn’t want to end.

“Not gonna say hi, Win?”

Her voice is a bolt of lightning to the dome.

“Andrea?”

Her once waist-length hair is now a rich chocolate bob with streaks of red peeking out from beneath. The sassy cheerleader I remember has been replaced by a bold bombshell.

One that was just squeezing Remy’s thigh.

My stomach rolls.

She crosses her arms over her chest, leveling an stern glare at me.

“You two know each other?” Jay asks, head oscillating between us.

I’m gonna throw up.

“Win went to Kingsbury with us for a year, though he was significantly less tattooed back then,” she says to Jay, eyes never straying from mine. I wish they would because the look she’s giving me says she knows way too much.

Does she know everything ?

Did he tell her the truth about us?

Or did he not tell her at all?

I don’t know what’s worse.

Jay nods, shooting me an annoyed glare.

I shrug, because what else am I supposed to say? Sorry, we've known each other for less than twelve hours and you’ve spent the majority of those hours trying to get in my pants?

“It's been a while,” Andrea muses, tipping her chin at me. “What brings you back?”

I glance over her head— she’s short even in a pair of platform boots. Shouldn’t she be with her boyfriend ?

“Uh,” I stall at the same time Jay says, “He just got out of rehab.”

Jay is officially on my shitlist.

Andrea’s stunned face makes my molars grind.

“I’m heading out,” I mutter, turning—

“Win?”

The earth stops spinning. Just kidding, it’s spinning way too fucking fast. Gravity is suspended. I’m encapsulated in warm honey. Smooth and soothing and aged with a deep rasp.

I’m.

So.

Fucked.

My mouth’s gone dry. I bite my lip on a groan and inhale through my nose. Time to face the music.

Looking straight into skeptical hazel eyes, I beg my erratic heart not to go into cardiac arrest.

“Hey, Remy.”