Sweet Hate (The Sweet Romantics Book 1) by Ana Saavedra

Author:Ana Saavedra [Saavedra, Ana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-19T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

Luna looked down and opened her bag, letting her hair fall and form a curtain around her face. A pitiful attempt to hide her shiny eyes and quivering lip. Because Alex—the person who had lied about forgetting his wallet a few hours ago just to kiss her, the one who had asked her to come with him and his friends—was ignoring her. As though she were truly invisible.

When he joined them, water in hand, he sat far away from her, not giving her a single glance, appearing tense and annoyed, and she couldn’t figure out what she had done wrong. She felt confused, and though ashamed to admit it, she was hurt.

And now, there she was, sitting with a bunch of people she didn’t really know, far away from and ignored by the only person she’d come to the club for. Because Luna didn’t want to drink or dance or spend the night in a crowded and noisy place. She just wanted to spend it with Alex, regardless of where it was, and a silly part of her assumed he’d invited her because he wanted to be with her too.

Clearly, he didn’t.

Was it pity? From him? From his friends? Because what other reason was there for his friends to invite her, a complete stranger, to go out with them? Alex had probably told them all about her little sob story.

It was pathetic that, for a moment, she’d thought the invitation was because they knew about her and Alex’s not-quite-relationship. Of course they didn’t. Of course Alex hadn’t told them. One didn’t tell their friends about a glorified one-night stand because that was exactly what their arrangement came down to.

She paused, finding in her purse the paper flower she had made on her break the previous Sunday. She’d intended to hide it in Alex’s backpack later on but forgot.

Her cheeks burnt in embarrassment. Embarrassment at remembering how she’d teared up when he gave her that bouquet, at how she always did when he got her new flowers every week, at how she eventually cut their stems and pressed the most vibrant ones between the pages of her books. Embarrassment at how she’d started making him paper flowers, leaving them in different places—on top of his pillow, on his nightstand, inside a book he was reading, on his bathroom counter. He probably thought they were stupid.

They were just flowers. They hadn’t meant anything. She only thought they did because she had stupid dreams that were a product of too many stupid romance books.

Angry, she closed her fist; the paper wrinkled, and the flower died.

This was real life. People didn’t want to take her out or introduce her to their friends or do other couple stuff. They wanted to undress her and fuck her and send her on her way after. And Alex, though very sweet after sex, was no different.

Everyone always got tired of her.

You’re pathetic.

Someone said something, and everyone laughed.

She wanted to leave.

Shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come.

She felt the little knot in her stomach growing with every repetition uttered in her head.

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