DAX
AGE 19

"YOU'RE SUCH AN ASSHOLE."

Through a thin, sharp gaze, Cleo glares down at me. Look who's talking. I give her the world's most epic eye roll, but I keep my trap shut. I don't have a choice right now. She's straddling my goddamn face, and my mouth is full of her sweet cunt. I'm way too happy about it to stay mad, and when I say I, what I really mean to say is my dick.

My tongue delves inside her, tasting, flicking, fucking the pretty little hole like a makeshift cock. Groaning, I yank her closer, killing the space between us. Cleo's bare thighs feel soft, smooth, and warm pressed up against my cheeks. As her weight bears down on my shoulders, the familiar feel of her body is small and slight, and it fills a void inside my chest that has been empty for far too long.

I've missed this.

God, I've missed her.

For a second, I can't remember why I'm supposed to run in the opposite direction whenever I see this bitch.

Obsessively, I kiss her clit and nip at her folds. A breathy sigh escapes her lips. Her hips are rolling now. She's finding her rhythm. Cleo's passion incites mine. I'm so stupid hard that my cock might snap off. The tip is dripping at this point. With one hand, I reach between my legs to give the desperate fucker a nice firm tug. With my shaft throbbing and balls tightening, pleasure pulses low and deep. I grit my teeth as though I'm in pain, fighting the animalistic urge to shove her cunt away from my mouth and slide her right onto my cock. Following every pump of my fist, I grow harder, thicker, and angrier. The veins running up and down my dick look like they're about to burst. He's craving some X-rated TLC, but this isn't about me. I can't give in to temptation. Tonight's about dominating this sick, twisted game of ours and watching Cleo fall to pieces.

Opening my mouth wider, I begin devouring her entire pussy like it's a ripe, juicy peach. She threatened to drown me once. Right now, I want to drown in her. Death by pussy sounds like the best way to go. When Cleo starts grinding on my face, I can't get enough of her needy cunt while I continue jacking myself off. Wetness trickles down her legs, staining my cheeks with her excitement. She tastes sticky-sweet. It's intoxicating. Positively vindicating. Like honeyed wine. I meant what I said earlier. I'm going to make this bitch come so hard that, after tonight, her pussy will be dead to all others. She'll forever crave my touch and cry out for me even when he's fucking her.

I'm not nearly as in control as I need to be, though.

I can't stop sucking her, kissing her, eating her. It's like I've been starving for years. Without moving my mouth away from her clit, I slide two fingers into Cleo's slick, throbbing heat. My fingertips remember the sweet spot nestled on her upper walls, seeking the chaos I can unleash in her once I find it.

"Here?" I grunt.

Cleo groans and lifts her hips, squirming eagerly against my hand with a look of exhilaration, "Yes. There."

A smirk twitches on my mouth. "Guess some things never change."

"Shut. Up."

Using only my fingers, I curl them upward and draw slow, concise circles inside her cunt. Teasing her. Driving her crazy. I know what she wants. I know what she needs.

But I won't give it to her.

Not yet.

Scowling, Cleo accuses, "You're enjoying this way too much."

I chuckle darkly while pumping into her. "You like it, too."

Cleo bites back a moan. "You wish."

Lies. My fingers are glistening with her fucking bullshit. Just to piss her off more, I taunt, "Says the bitch with the dripping cunt."

A pretty pink flush rises up her neck. "I take it back. You're not an asshole. Know what you are?"

"What?"

"A sadist," she spits.

I laugh again.

Maybe I'm not a masochist, after all, because I don't stop. Cleo starts moving her hips, grinding into my hand. Her pussy clenches around me. At this point, my cock is growing painfully jealous of my fingers, but I keep my expression neutral. I make a conscious effort to feign indifference. I refuse to give her any power over me.

Cleo grumbles, "That's enough. Fuck me already."

I'm quick to retaliate. With every intention of edging her to the point of no return, I run my thumb over her clit while my fingers continue to play between her thighs. "Not until you ask nicely."

Gasping and writhing, she relents and gives me an inch, "Please..."

I take a mile, "Please... what?"

She blushes again, mumbling, "Please... rail me until I can't see straight."

Shit, I want to get on my knees when Cleo begs.

Unable to deny her any longer, my final shred of self-control snaps, and my arm starts thrusting on its own. In a pistoning blur, I fuck Cleo with my fingers until her legs start shaking.

And we still have hours until the sun comes up.

I remove my hand. Her mutters of protest only cease when my hands anchor on either side of her waist. With one smooth movement, her cunt sinks onto the weeping head of my cock. From under her, I rock my hips higher and higher. A low, blissed-out fuck escapes me as I ease into Cleo. I pump inside inch by inch and revel in the honeyed clasp of her hot, wet pussy as it swallows me whole. Once I push up all the way, I grab Cleo and tilt her hips toward me, prodding my shaft along her upper walls.

"Here?" I grunt, checking with her once more.

"There," she confirms again.

Only then do my hips begin to move. Cleo moves with me, riding my cock now instead of my face. I couldn't be happier. Or harder. My dick's in heaven. She's taking me raw, and I'm fucking her bareback. The tight, slick friction between us is sensory overload. With every nerve ending being heightened to the max, I can feel everything inside her. Every upward thrust makes my shaft swell heavier, but I resist the urge to blow my load. This effort to hold off nearly undoes me. Desperation sears my veins, fraying my nerves. I hate how much I want her still.

My frustration compels me to fuck Cleo harder. But I hold my position and rhythm, keeping steady even though my hips are snapping with more force. I make sure to hit Cleo's trigger point again and again with every plunge and every retreat. Her perfect, pillowy tits bounce in time with each stroke. Reaching over, I massage the generous mounds and toy with her nipples, twisting and tugging them between my fingers. She's the one being pleasured, but her sighs and moans are making my balls ache for release. I'm ready to explode.

I pull out of Cleo for a five-second breather so my cock can pipe the fuck down. My mind is a frantic, horny mess when I bark, "On your knees. Ass up. Face down."

A defiant scowl pulls at her mouth. "Would it kill you to say please or thank you?"

Yes.

Because she still has me by the balls and acting like a shitty little shithead is the only way I can keep my shit together. As though our sordid fuckfest isn't completely wrecking me, I growl, "Turn around so I can wreck that cunt."

"Dax!"

In a voice dripping with sarcasm, I offer mockingly, "Please?"

Cleo curses at me under her breath, but, like a good girl, she gets on all fours.

"Thank you," I add with a smirk.

She coughs. "Asshole."

Snickering, I shuffle over on the mattress, positioning myself behind the peachy swells of her shapely ass. Twisting the silky strands of Cleo's long, dark hair in my hand, I grip her head possessively as my cock slides back inside. I mount her like she's my little bitch. We fuck even harder and faster than before.

"For a slut," I taunt breathlessly, "your pussy feels tighter than a fist."

She chuckle-moans, "You're just too big, you overgrown prick."

My cock swells with pride even though she's insulting me. Whatever. I'm one happy motherfucker. Cleo thinks I'm huge. Redoubling my efforts, I give her everything even though she deserves nothing from me.

"Take it, take all of me," I demand. "Let me see this tight, little cunt milking every inch of my cock."

"Oh, God, Dax, yes, yes, yes," she exhales breathlessly. "Give it to me, baby, fill me up all the way."

"You love getting fucked like a whore, don't you?"

I can't see her face when she whispers, "Only with you."

Instantly, my chest tightens.

Only with you.

Only with you.

Only with you.

Those haunting words send me back in time once more. Because I was the one who said them first.

***

The noisiness of the party seeps through the cracks around the closet door. Echoes of obnoxious chatter. Drunken screams and laughter prick my ears. Heavy bass pounds against the walls. But I can't hear anything except the hammering of my heart.

In the dark of the closet, Cleo's gaze captivates mine. The metal from her piercings glisten in the shadows. Her hands are still behind her back. She hasn't budged an inch. Because she's a good girl.

My good fucking girl.

We have less than five minutes before one of the shitheads outside barge in on us, and I plan to take advantage of every fucking second.

Pushing aside everything that's fucked in me, I reach for her. She's the calm in my storm. My palm cradles her face. Cleo's breathing quickens when I glide my thumb across the plumpness of her lower lip.

Realization widens her eyes when she realizes, "You like being in charge, huh?"

Only with you.

Only with you.

Only with you.

The emotions caged inside my chest manage to escape, "Only with you."

She smiles tightly. "I'm all wrong for you."

"You're fucking perfect for me."

"If my brother he finds out about us..."

"Then he can get out of our way. Or end up in the fucking hospital," I growl, "because I'm not letting you go."

"What about everyone else? You can't fight them all. The whole school still thinks that I'm Trav's girl."

"Fuck Trav. You're mine now. I won't let anyone touch you."

Voice ripe with emotion, Cleo whispers, "God, I want to be yours. More than anything. You make me wanna break all the rules."

Mesmerized by her mouth, I keep caressing her lip. I've never kissed anyone before, but I want to kiss Cleo. So very badly. But I don't dare. Not here. Not when I have less than a few minutes to get it right. I want our first kiss to be special. I want to take my sweet time with her, so Cleo will forget her ex and remember me forever.

I tilt my wrist just so. The back of my fingers follow the delicate line of her jaw. I move lower. My knuckles graze the slope of her neck, trailing down her collarbone to learn the shapely swells of her breasts. But I don't stop there. I keep going. My hand reaches the hem of her cropped T-shirt. I slide underneath. My skin touches hers. It feels forbidden.

She whisper-begs, "Don't stop. Okay?"

"Never," I rasp. My head is swimming with a hot, unrelenting need. It's like a fever. But I never want it to end.

I lift up her shirt and pull down the lacy cups of her bra. For a second, all I can do is stare like a slack-jawed idiot. Her tits are glorious. With a groan, my lips lock on to her nipple. My tongue wraps around the nub to lick, flick, and swirl. She moans in approval, but her hands remain steady in place. My hand slides up and down her leg until it settles between her thighs. I unzip her jeans, and my fingers slip inside her underwear. She feels so soft, slick, and warm against my palm. I want to make her melt into my touch. My cock is straining painfully against my jeans.

Right as I'm about to explore every secret fold and crevice between her thighs, however, Cleo gasps in alarm, "Shit, I hear someone coming."

With a panicked expression, I help her get dressed again. We scramble away from each other. An arm's length apart. I take off my black hoodie and wrap it around my waist to hide my raging boner. Cleo and I pull out our phones and start scrolling mindlessly as though we had no intention of fucking each other senseless just now.

The closet door swings open.

Savannah's face crumbles with disappointment at the sight of our G-rated asses not making out or groping each other. "Ugh, you two are boring."

Cleo shrugs. "Sorry. Not sorry."

As though made of stone, Cleo strolls by Savannah and doesn't even spare me a backward glance as she rejoins the party outside. Blue-violet eyes are glued to her phone. Both thumbs are tapping away across the screen.

Two seconds later, a new text notification pops up on my phone.

Cleo: You better finish what you started

Struggling to wear a straight face in front of Savannah, I text back: Later tonight. Wait for me.

Cleo: Where?

Me: Your bed.

Cleo: Don't let anyone see you

I type back: I won't

Through this short and sweet exchange, an unspoken understanding has been forged between us. We're about to become more than friends. But no one can know about it.

My entire body starts thrumming with a conflicting mix of anxiety and anticipation. Tonight marks the beginning of something new and forbidden. Once this line is crossed, there's no going back. I can hardly contain myself. Every minute feels like an eternity.

Squaring my shoulders, I make my way out of the closet and wander around aimlessly through the rowdy crowds around me. In time, I find myself lingering near the stairwell that leads to Cleo's bedroom.

I can't fucking wait.

***

My other hand wraps around her waist. Very intentionally, I press against her lower stomach with my palm. Firmly. I hold it there as I continue to pummel her. This added pressure allows my cock to ram against her favorite little trigger point with even more intensity.

"Oh, God, yes," Cleo cries out, bucking her hips to fuck me back, "there, there, right fucking there!"

She answers me with a whimpering moan. Right on cue, her cunt starts milking me for all I'm worth, gripping and contracting the entire length of my cock like a pulsing vice. Our slapping bodies are slicked with sweat. Pleasure overwhelms me. I last all but two strokes before pouring myself into her with a hoarse, helpless groan. I can no longer form a coherent thought, let alone spit out any words.

Wave after wave, surges of self-loathing poison the gut-punching euphoria that shoots from my cock. I'm still hard even after I've found release. I keep pounding into Cleo like a machine that just can't quit. My come starts oozing out of her hole and down her legs. I'm making a filthy mess. But I don't care. I continue fucking her. Her nails dig into my shoulders. She's scratching up my back, and I want to blow all over again. It doesn't take long for Cleo to follow me to oblivion. She cries out when a powerful gush of clear fluid sprays from her cunt, soaking everything in its radius. The bedsheets. My abs. My thighs. An unadulterated sense of male satisfaction swells in my chest.

You like that, Trav?

Two years ago, everything between Cleo and me changed because of him.

But one thing remains the same.

Only I can fuck his girl the way she needs to be fucked.

I keep pounding her pussy. We've already fallen over the edge, but I'm not satisfied. I want to come again. I want to see her come again. Hips snapping and thrusting in unison, my cock disappears inside her over and over again as we chase after oblivion. My fingers close around her throat. I yank Cleo's face toward mine and capture her mouth in a punishing kiss. When Cleo kisses me back, I can't help but moan in bliss. Her lush, full lips are made for sin. They taste so sweet, sweeter than I remembered, even while the nasty gash on her mouth scrapes against me. It feels rough. Almost like a real scab. A chill creeps across my skin. 

The fuck?

Before I can get a closer look at it, Cleo ghosts her lips across my cheek and asks in a broken whisper, "Still hate me?"

If only I could. Then, perhaps, the wreckage she made of my heart wouldn't hurt so much. Her gaze finds mine, and I feel lost. I can't remember what I was about to ask her. She's trying to get a read on me. A glimmer of hope has the audacity to shine from her eyes as though she actually believes that letting me shove my cock into her cunt might unfuck everything that was fucked between us.

Distress prickles my skin as raw emotions crawl up my throat. I try to ignore it, but this shit is too strong to shove aside. Despair threatens to rip me apart. I hold her gaze. The hard edge in my voice hides the longing in my chest when I reply, "Not as much as I hate myself."

For always giving more than you deserve from me.

***

It's Monday morning again.

Everyone's back at school. Including me. And Cleo. Ever since I stayed the night in her bedroom after Brookes' party, everything has shifted between us. Yet, on the surface, not a fucking thing looks different.

As I enter the main building, I shuffle through the crowd in the hallway until I spot a flash of long, silky lavender hair in a sea of browns, blondes, and reds.

Cleo's standing by her locker. Kylie's gathered not too far from her with a group of friends. Their gazes are fixed in Cleo's direction, sharp and gleaming with anticipation. Feeling instantly uneasy, I sense that shit's about to go down.

Cleo opens her locker, freezes for a second, and then curses. I try to inch closer to get a better view of what's going on, but she slams the metal door shut before I can steal a glimpse.

Cleo's head snaps toward Kylie with a cutting look. "Real fucking cute."

Kylie smiles angelically with a look of wide-eyed innocence. "What?"

"I know it was you."

"It could be anyone," Kylie replies, all sweetness and light, "we all hate you. Besides, I thought you had a thing for blood? Everyone saw you at that party before Trav's accident. You looked like Hannibal Lector after a little midnight snack."

I have no idea what Kylie's talking about. Probably a bunch of more made-up bullshit. Cleo's expression darkens like a thundercloud. The noisy masses around us fall silent. Everyone's attention is now riveted on Cleo and Kylie. A pin drop can be heard at this point.

Right as I'm about to rush to her side, Cleo charges past Kylie, hitting her shoulder on the way.

"Watch it, bitch!" Kylie sneers.

"Clean it up by the end of the day," Cleo mutters as she makes her retreat, "or else I'm going to shove it down your throat."

Kylie exchanges a smug look with her friends as they all burst into laughter. "Oh, no. I think I upset the little psycho. Should I be scared? Is she going to take a bite out of me next?"

"Wait, Cleo!" I call after her.

But she doesn't seem to hear me and disappears around the corner. Damn it. I'll have to talk to her later in Ms. Woodward's class. For now, I turn my attention back to Kylie. Growling, I demand, "What did you put in her locker?"

"It's none of your fucking business," Kylie chirps gleefully, "asswipe."

My jaw locks. I'm going to find out what she did to Cleo. Then, I'm going to make her pay.

***

As Cleo gazes back at me, I drown in those haunting blue-violet eyes of hers. Her hot zombie makeup just looks like a hot mess now. It's smeared from sex. The black eye hasn't budged, though. I don't know much about makeup, but it appears to be a damn good product. Must be waterproof or some shit.

Narrowing my gaze, I study her some more. Honestly, the fake bruise doesn't look fake at all. The purple bleeds into a greenish-black across Cleo's cheekbone. Unable to help myself, I reach over to caress her marred skin. My thumb grazes her cheek. I have a sudden urge to wipe it away.

Wincing, Cleo flinches away from my thumb as though I hurt her. "Leave it alone, okay? You'll mess up my makeup."

I frown. Cleo's reaction unsettles me. Bitch will let me come inside her but I can't touch her face?

"It's already messed up," I toss back, fingers still itching to scrub away the stupid scars on Cleo's face so I can see her.

The real her.

Fuck this zombie-faced imposter who broke me. I want her bare-faced and vulnerable again. Somewhere behind her mask, there hides the beautifully broken girl that I fell in love with. I'm sure she's still there, and I need her back.

"Shit," Cleo swears.

Through this one syllable, I sense a complete one-eighty shift in her demeanor. Panic flashes across her face. Cleo sounds genuinely upset. For some unknown reason, she rolls over to flip the light switch by the bed. With a click, her room descends into darkness.

Caught somewhat off guard, I ask, "Why did you turn off the light?"

"Because I-I felt like it."

The slight tremor in her voice doesn't escape my notice. I know Cleo. It definitely seems like she's hiding shit. I shouldn't give a fuck. Her shit's no longer any of my business. But I can't shake the suspicion that there's something I'm not seeing here. Something important. Concern flares in me.

I dare to ask, "Everything okay with... Trav?"

If I'm being brutally honest, even after all this time, there's a sick, pathetic part of me looking for a reason to run back and fight for Cleo.

Maybe her relationship with Trav isn't as perfect as it seems.

She gulps. "What do you mean?"

I feel seventeen all over again when I mumble, "Just wondering if you've ever regretted choosing him."

Over me.

Our gazes linger in the shadows. Then, Cleo looks away first. "I thought you already knew? Rich girls don't have hearts. We only care about the bottom line."

My jaw tightens. It's like I'm looking to dig up skeletons when there isn't a single fucking bone in the ground. Feeling lame as can be, I argue quietly, "You weren't always like this."

***

The school day's finally over. We're standing in an empty corridor next to her locker. With my arms crossed over my chest, I demand, "Why haven't you told Brookes about these sons of bitches?"

Cleo shoots me a pointed look. "Because my brother has eyes and ears, and he goes to the same school. Don't you think Brookes already knows? Maybe not all of it, but, at least, to some extent?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "What are you getting at?"

She smiles tightly and shrugs. "He just doesn't wanna deal with it."

I struggle to defend my best friend, "Brookes cares about you, but he's too much of a dumbass to figure out how to help—"

"Exactly," she agrees while cutting me off at the same time, "he's a dumbass, and the shit I'm dealing with sits above his pay grade. I know my brother. He doesn't handle stress. He runs from it. Brookes has always cut corners and taken the easy way out. If I tell him anything, he'll get our parents involved, and they'll ship me back to Ashwood on the next available flight."

"That's fucked up."

"No, that's reality. My reality."

My chest grows tight because I sense that Cleo's not wrong. As much as I like Brookes, he's pissing me off right now for not stepping up. Someone needs to fight for Cleo. Guess it might as well be me.

Glancing over at her locker, I rake my fingers through my hair. "So... what did Kylie do to your locker?"

"I already told you. I don't want to talk about it."

Frustrated, I glare at Cleo and then at her locker again. "Open it. Please."

"No."

"Do it. Or else."

"Or else... what?"

Unafraid to play dirty, I threaten, "I'll break into your locker and take a look myself."

Holding her hands up in surrender, she grumbles, "Okay, okay. Fine!"

Cleo twists the dial to unlock the security code. When the locker door swings open, I see red. No. Literally. Dark crimson is smeared everywhere. It's all I can do to not gag.

Because there's a bloody tampon inside.

Fucking Kylie!

It has taken me all damn day to convince Cleo to show me this shit, and she only caved after I promised not to get involved. This isn't the first time Kylie and her fucktard friends have targeted Cleo, and I'd bet my left nut sack that they'll keep making her life miserable until someone sets them straight.

My fists are dying to take a swing, but even a delinquent like me knows that I can't lay hands on a girl. Not even one with a face as punchable as Kylie's.

Everything else, though, is fair game.

Tomorrow morning, I have a feeling that the tires on Kylie's shiny new BMW might get slashed to ribbons. Not saying I'm going to do it. But I do own a switchblade. And I have some time to kill because I never go to class. A diabolical twitch tugs at my mouth.

I almost smile.

Maybe I can convince Brookes to join me. If we get caught, it'll be nice to have him on my side. The school won't touch Brookes because he's a Fitzgerald, and he always has my back whenever the principal tries to kick me out of Fairmont.

I jolt slightly when, all of a sudden, Cleo slams her locker shut. She eyes me with suspicion. "Whatever you're plotting right now, Dax, stop it."

"Okay," I lie.

"Don't do anything to get yourself expelled," she pleads quietly. "You're the only reason I haven't gone full-on batshit at this school."

I assure her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know you want to step in and save the day," insists Cleo, "but there's no need. I'm stronger than I look. I can deal with Kylie on my own."

My voice grows thick when I murmur, "I'm sure you can. But you don't have fight alone. You have me now."

"I do?"

"From now on, it's me and you against these assholes."

"Thank you, Dax. I mean it." A shadow of a smile softens her features. "For what it's worth, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Both of my ears catch fire while I pretend like I'm not the happiest motherfucker in the world right this moment. "Fuck, Cleo. That's hella depressing."

Her smile becomes strained. "Give yourself more credit. You're fucking amazing."

"Nah," I mumble, "I'm just amazingly fucked in the head."

Cleo's fingers reach for my hand, almost touching but not quite. "That makes two of us."

As always, she's letting me call the shots. I don't hesitate to clasp her hand in mine. Warmth floods my soul. I'm still fighting that tight, skin-crawling feeling every time other people come too close, but Cleo's different. The chaos inside me tends to die down whenever she's around.

I study her obsessively. "You don't think we're too fucked up for this world?"

Giving my hand a gentle squeeze, she declares, "We're fucked up, yes. But it's a good thing. I think—"

I wait for Cleo to find the rest of her words.

"You and me are like glass."

Glass?

"What do you mean?"

She holds my gaze as her eyes shine wickedly. "People like Kylie and Seth think they can get away with hurting us. But they forgot one thing. Glass becomes deadly when it shatters. Even the smallest shards can be used to slit a wrist. If they ever break us, I swear I'll shred their veins and bleed them dry."

Captivated, I can't look away from Cleo. My heart gives a hard, heavy thud as demons dance in her eyes, and the dark has never looked so pretty.

"I can't tell if I should be scared of the way your mind works," I murmur, "or buy a fucking shovel."

"A shovel?"

"So I can help bury the bodies."

***

Cleo shrugs. "Life happens. Trav woke up. Shit changes."

Both hands clench at my sides. The mere mention of his name triggers something dark and violent in me. It simmers away. Silent. But deadly. I hate that Travis Reynolds is precisely the type of mofo Cleo wants to be with.

Their relationship is the stuff of loveless wet dreams. You know the story. Daddy's Little Princess meets her Trust Fund Prince, and, together, they live happily ever after in a multimillion-dollar penthouse, soulless in the eyes, living out their shiny, sterile lives while fucking away their psychosis with disposable side pieces—like me—just to feel alive once in a while.

I really shouldn't let her in. But she's everywhere already. My conscience goes to war with itself. Earlier, Cleo revealed something pretty profound. Silently, I begin to rationalize. If she really didn't fuck Trav back then, maybe I can forgive her...

Against my better judgment, I blurt out, "You don't have to stay with him."

"I can't change my mind about Trav. He's the hill I'll die on."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Cleo snaps irritably, "No one asked for your opinion."

"You look miserable. Ditch him already."

"I'm not breaking up with Trav."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

I wait for her to continue.

Cleo lowers her voice as though she's ashamed, "We're getting married next year."

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

What?

This means Trav proposed to Cleo, and she must have said... yes.

Motherfucking hell.

The world tilts on its axis.

I try not to hyperventilate. "Well, shit."

I guess I always knew that they were each other's endgame. But merely knowing is one thing. Hearing it cemented in reality hurts like a bullet to the chest.

Cleo stays silent.

I pretend to be absolutely unbothered as I roll out of bed. Away from her. I force myself not to rush even though I need to get as far away from this bitch as possible. I get dressed on autopilot. I pull on my jeans. My shirt. I can't believe I just let her fuck me over again.

"Dax—"

I glare over my shoulder. "Congratulations. On your engagement."

"I didn't mean for you to find out like—"

I don't let her finish her half-assed apology, "Just so we're clear? Next time, go cheat on Trav with someone else's dick. I'm done with this bullshit."

Then, I head straight for the door. Cleo calls after me, pleading with me to stay, to listen, to hear her out, but I block out her cries.

When the door slams shut behind me, I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. I'm shipping out in two weeks.

This time, I won't look back.