Repent (The Disciples Book 3) by Cassandra Robbins

Author:Cassandra Robbins [Robbins, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cassandra Robbins
Published: 2020-05-14T23:00:00+00:00

EDGE

Eighteen years old

I don’t bother with a towel. She’s fucking unbelievable, a true plague on society. I shouldn’t be so upset about this because she means nothing to me… but then that would bring me down to her level. And I might be a lot of things, but a liar I’m not.

Gutted. That’s how I feel right now. Something I’ve dreamed about, that I believed I lost any chance of experiencing with her… she gives to me in the shower like a goddamn whore.

Actually, a whore has way more self-respect. I grab my jeans and pull them up not bothering to button them. I’m going back to bed after I smoke. I need to order room service and get drunk. I paid for this room; I’m going to enjoy it.

Grabbing my cigarettes, I step out on the balcony, which I left open last night. Clear blue skies greet me as I light up. The palm trees and the Hollywood Hills should make me happy. Instead, bile rises in the back of my throat. I inhale my cancer stick hoping to rid myself of the acid.

I need to try to reason with my mind. Sort through why she would do this.

I know her. Now I need to think like her. She’s different, but this… this hurt. Christ, we’re not good together.

Toxic.

It’s what comes to mind. Taking another long drag, I watch the red tip of my cigarette burn and wonder why she still has power over me.

Closing my eyes, I lean back against the railing and let the sun beat down on my face. All I fantasized about was being her first, wanting to believe so badly that she saved herself for me so I could teach her, make her mine.

And she fucking says nothing. Jesus Christ, I don’t know who I’m madder at: her or me?

My body tightens as I sense her approach. Edge and Dolly plays in my head. Snorting, I flick my cigarette over the balcony and turn to her.

Edge and Dolly are dead. At least the old version of us. Memories, visions of her in various stages of my life appear—two sad kids bonding together in a fucked-up world.

Her vanilla candy scent invades me. The heat from the shower and her anger bounce off her body.

“Why?” she screams. “I gave you my virginity. I thought that would make you happy.”

Christ, is she so self-absorbed that she’s lost all sense of us? Or maybe she’s a compulsive liar. Either way, my head is pounding.

“Get your shoes, your dress and get the fuck out.” She flinches but holds her head up, her eyes looking big and tortured.

Rage. I’ve kept silent for too long, and after what she pulled, I’m ready to go off.

“Do you need money? Is that why you’re still here?” I motion with my head at the glass coffee table.

“There’s a couple hundred in my wallet. Take it.”

She draws in a deep breath as if she’s trying hard not to freak out. But she forgets how well I know her.

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