Pretty Young Thing: a new adult romance box set by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Madam's Books
Published: 2016-07-15T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The etching sound that dances across the kitchen window is enough to send my back straight and instantly my eyes open to pitch darkness as a thin layer of cold sweat rests on my forehead. What is that sound, and why is Adam not rushing up to check what it is?

Now that I’m awake I remember that I’m not in bed, but lying on Gabe’s couch. A thick, blue duvet is covering my body, so it’s no wonder I feel so sweaty. Pushing the blanket off me, instantly I feel the cool air lingering on my body.

The nausea swirls wildly in my empty stomach, and my head is swimming with full-formed regrets. Why did I drink so much? Why is there a crust of dried saliva on my lips? Why am I thinking about Adam, and how much I want to see him at this very instant?

In the silence, I am alone with my thoughts and it is horrendous. My melancholy hangs over me like a black cloud. I can’t just lie here. I stand up in a hurry and regret it instantly. My brain feels swollen and numb, like a sink needing to be unclogged. The alcohol has definitely gone to my head now. Forcing myself to be steady on my feet, I move a few steps and the room starts to sway. Whoa, bad idea. Immediately I almost lose my balance, reaching for the couch arm to prop myself up. Water. I need water. I make a quick dash for the monochrome kitchen, which is nothing more than an extended part of the living room, for that cool drink.

The liquid goes down my throat, slaking my thirst. So delicious. I wipe my mouth and let the choleric thoughts run through my head.

How dare he do this to me? My hopes and dreams have been obliterated with the stroke of a pen, and I just let him get away with it. My fingers tightly grip the glass tumbler. All I can envision is his face becoming red from my slaps and it feels good. I can feel my hand making contact with his cheeks, and him just standing there while I do it again and again. How good would that be?

Every word that he uttered stings, and only serves to fuel the fire that burns inside of me. Every comment, every insult is like gasoline, and my teeth begin to clench. I slam the glass tumbler back on the kitchen counter in retaliation, and turn around to check the time on the microwave.

11.45pm

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep but surely I can drive back to my place and give Adam what he deserves.

I said that I would give him three days to pack up his things, but I just can’t let him off so easily. He needs to feel the pain that I feel; he needs to feel heartbroken. There are so many more things I want to say; need to say. Objects I would like to throw at him.

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