Cruel Kisses (It's Just High School #2) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,87
that’s Rye. Half sun, half storm.
With her, each day was different. You never knew which side you were going to get. Just like Roxy Bishop of the R.A.C.K.
Fuck, I have to talk to someone about her.
A second later, the phone pings with two texts from her.
Rye: Don’t over think this shit!
And another with the pin for her Paris flat.
With a sigh, I look up and decide right there and then to just do as I’m told. I don’t stop to think. I don’t look over my shoulder. I just leave the store with my head down and head for the exit, only breathing when I’m in the taxi, rattling the address Rye gave me to the cabbie.
Guilt is a funny thing though. I felt it later on when I decided to ditch Julian.
But for the first time in days, I don’t give a damn about guilt. It can go fuck off somewhere.
So why was my heart bleeding furiously? Why did I want to go back to him and fix this?
Fix what? Unless you can go back in time and stop yourself from being this girl who cuts herself, there’s no going back.
I rest my head on the headrest when it begins to pound. Over the years, I’ve had headaches so intense, they knocked me out at times. I think the same thing is going to happen. Or maybe Julian has a voodoo doll of me, and he just banged the head on a wall or something after what I just did.
Whatever. I’m sure he’ll find me soon, but for now, I think I have a head start.
19
I have no fucking idea how long I stand there, leaning by the wall waiting or Mia to come out of the bathroom, when I finally realize what she just did.
She played me. No doubt she ditched me and is already gone.
“Fuck!” I mutter to myself, turning a few heads, but I don’t give a shit. I stalk out of the airport and head for the guy with “FITZ” scribbled on the board, no doubt sent by dad to pick me up. This isn’t what I meant when I said I need a car, so I walk over to him.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” the French guy says, greeting me with recognition in his eyes. “Welcome to France.”
I nod, then extend my hand to him. “I need your keys,” I mutter and he raises an eyebrow, watching me.
“Excusez moi, monsieur?” he starts. “My keys?”
“Yes, for the car,” I grumble impatiently. “I need to find someone.”
“You mean the young Mademoiselle you flew in with?”
Mia. How did he know?
“Yes.”
“Oh, she left in a taxi. One of the security detail assigned to you followed her.”
Hmm, looks like the old man did come through with everything I asked for.
“Are you my driver?”
“That and your security, monsieur,” he says and it’s then that I see the hardness in his eyes. Yeah, he’s security all right.
“I trust that the penthouse is ready?” I mutter, starting to walk toward the car bay, feeling him right beside me.
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Where is she?”
“I can have her location in a second. Would you like me to take you to her?”
I think back to the devastated look on her face from earlier. The way her eyes widened when she realized that I had seen the long cuts and nail punctures on her arms; she looked like she wanted to disappear.
Fuck, I have no idea what it is I’m doing wrong with her. Did I come on too strong? Was it too much too fast? When she woke up, I couldn’t control my reaction. I just sat there, my mind transported to a fucking dark place where all I saw was blood from years ago from the slashed wrists of another girl and now… hers.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, then get in the car. “No, take me to the penthouse.”
She needs space to calm down and fuck, I need space to try and make sense of everything. Though we did talk last night, a lot was left unsaid still. We lightly touched on some issues but didn’t go full out to lay them out like the shit with Nathan and her childhood.
I need to figure out what I want to do before I see her next.
“I’ll drop you off because I have to come back and wait for Monsieur Liam’s flight,” the guy says, and I realize then that I don’t know his name.
“I don’t think I caught your name.”
“It’s Max, young monsieur. I don’t blame you for not remembering.”