34. Ariyan #2
While most people were hyped over the holidays, Nacio and I weren’t so much.
Those were times to spend with family, but when you’d lost half of what you once had, that empty space felt even bigger than usual.
Still, even though we didn’t have our parents with us, we still celebrated.
I mean, Thanksgiving was kinda nice, as Dolores invited us like she always did.
Having to sit next to Gabriel the whole evening was a bit awkward, but it was nothing a plateful of his mom’s cooking couldn’t make up for.
Maybe I should reply to his text… or maybe not.
Closing my eyes, I shrugged the thought away and instead enjoyed the sunrays warming my skin.
With the sound of the ocean in the background, all I could think of was him glancing at me over his shoulder, his pale neck exposed, daring me to leave my mark on it.
He really has such a pretty neck. Although he could use a bit of a tan.
But then again, with such fair skin, he was probably the kind to get burned fast. Did he even go to the beach?
I should ask him that. Actually, I should ask him what he liked to eat, too.
Last week, he didn’t seem interested in burgers, so maybe on Saturday, we’d hit a restaurant he enjoyed.
I bet he had a sophisticated palate. I mean, everything about him was sophisticated, so it only made sense.
Without noticing, an hour flew by, and seeing how it was time for me to go home, I got off the sand and began making my way back to the hotel.
I’d clock out first and maybe stop at his office before leaving.
Sadly, I’d hardly seen him this week. But that wasn’t new.
Whenever we were at the hotel, he was so busy.
Why did I seek him out so hard?
I sighed at the thought because clearly, I hadn’t changed one bit since being a kid.
I’d always wanted what I couldn’t have. Only back then, it was a puppy for Christmas, and now…
yeah, there was nothing puppy-like about that crazy white-haired psycho.
The guy was vicious, cruel, mean, and violent—the complete opposite of the guys I was usually attracted to.
You love violence. You live for it, while I am violence.
He had a point. I was drawn to violence and had been since I first learned how to throw a punch.
There was something addictive about the feeling of my fist colliding with flesh.
The sound, the impact, the force. It was a rush like no other that nothing ever compared to, or so I thought, until I met him.
Speak of the devil, my current obsession had just appeared in front of me.
Standing next to a flower truck, with a clipboard in hand, Ariyan instructed a few guys from the maintenance team on where to place the flowers they carried.
Passing on the suit jacket, he was down to a white dress shirt, while on top, he wore a green apron that was just too fucking hot.
I wondered if he liked cosplaying in his free time, because right now, he looked like the sexiest florist to ever live.
After sending the employees on their way, he climbed back into the back of the truck, and that was when I decided to follow him in. It was one of those refrigerated mini trucks, so inside, the temperature immediately dropped.
“You really do like the color white, don’t you?” I said, rubbing my palms together while looking at all the white roses around us.
Ariyan turned around, his brows creasing and his jaw setting tight upon seeing me.
Well… I didn’t expect he’d welcome me with a kiss, but he looked straight-up pissed.
“Look at that. All I need is to breathe, and it annoys you,” I tried joking, but seeing the irritation growing on his face, I quickly shut up.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing, really.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I just thought that you might need some help?”
“I don’t.”
“You sure?” I smiled. “I am the assistant manager, after all.”
“Only by title.”
His eyes dropped back to the clipboard in his hands.
Disappointment settled deep in my gut. Again, it wasn’t that I assumed he’d be happy to see me, but his reaction was even colder than this cooler truck.
“What are all these flowers for?” I tried again.
“You’re still here?” he snarled, eyes not looking away from that damn clipboard.
Ouch.
“Sorry for being such a bother.”
With a sigh, he looked up, his mouth set in a hard line. It was then that I noticed something that made my heart stop and my blood boil.
“What happened to you?” I stepped closer, my full attention on the bruise he had on his bottom lip.
“What’s your problem?” he hissed and tried to step back when I caged him against one of the shelves of the truck.
The clipboard fell from his hand, making a thud when it met the floor.
“How did you get this bruise?”
“I have no clue what you’re—”
“Your lip.” I grabbed his arms and held him tight. “Who did this to you? Who did you kiss?”
The question was out of my mouth before I could think it through, but this bruise…
It was a bite mark. Someone had given him that, marked him.
It sure as fuck wasn’t me, so who the hell did it?
Who the fuck was he seeing? The mere thought drove me nuts, and I was eaten up with jealousy when pure fury crossed his face.
“Get your hands off of me, you rabid dog.”
My breath hitched, and I froze, eyes locked with his.
“Ariyan—”
“I said, get your filthy hands off of me.”
I quickly withdrew, yet not fast enough, because he’d already pushed me, and I stumbled backward.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Laying your hands on me while making such accusations.” His jaw went rigid as he spoke.
“Just because you fight for me doesn’t make you any less disgusting in my eyes.
So listen to me very carefully now.” He had gotten closer, his hands clenched into fists.
“Whatever delusion you might have about the nature of our relationship, get rid of it, or I swear to God I’ll cut you open and remove it myself. Am I clear?”
I wanted to fight back. To shout and tell him to piss off, but instead, I shut my mouth and nodded. Why? I had no fucking clue, and it drove me mad, but not nearly as much as that bruise on his lip.
“Please,” I hissed after he turned around. “Just… tell me. How did you get that bruise?”
Stopping, he crouched down and reached for the clipboard that had fallen to the floor. “How did I get it? From sex, of course.”
He then slowly rose, yet kept his back to me. “I told you I liked it rough, didn’t I?”
We were the furthest thing possible from being a couple.
He owed me nothing. In fact, he hated me to my core, and I knew it, and yet, just now, his words hurt.
But it wasn’t just hurt twisting my gut, but rage.
Sickening jealousy. The idea of him sharing a bed with anyone drove me nuts, and my body throbbed with the need to crush something.
To break and ruin. The problem was, he was the only one in front of me, and hurting him was nearly impossible.
One glance at his back drained me of my strength, and so I pressed my lips together and, without another word, got out of there.
Feeling like the dog he claimed me to be, I walked away with my tail between my legs, feeling like the biggest fool to ever live.
Get your hands off of me, you rabid dog.
The way he hissed out those words, with pure disgust, as if I truly was the most despicable creature he’d ever laid eyes on, was brutal. I hated him for making me feel this way almost as much as I hated myself for wanting him to.
And as much as he loathed me, I knew that as long as I was inside the cage, fighting for him, his eyes were on me and me alone.
And fuck me, if I wasn’t willing to do it over and over again, as, if only for those few minutes, I was the sole interest in his life.
Why? Because his stare validated me beyond words.
It made me feel alive, but mostly, it was the air I starved to breathe.
The top of the mountain I wished to climb and the prize I so desperately sought to win, may the consequences be damned.