you, you idiotic two-bit shithead, because you spent an entire year playing hot and cold with me and getting horny with me when we spar and fucking crying over my goddamn sick bed—and then you turn around and tell your parents we’re just classmates! God!”
I start pacing back and forth, all of my irritation at him spiraling out of control, like a rollercoaster that’s had the brakes taken off and is in danger of careening off the track completely.
“If you didn’t want anything to do with me, then you should’ve said so instead of practically seducing my panties off in Roman’s classroom, telling me you care about my happiness and all that shit. Or just tell me you want to fuck, we can fuck, and then boom! Done! We move on! I didn’t ask for you to stay with me all summer. I didn’t ask for you to be there. I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Ohhh, yeah. Turns out I have a lot of pent up feelings where Dmitri is concerned. It makes sense, I guess, considering it’s been a year of one step forward, two steps back with this guy. But right now, I’m not interested in analyzing the hows or whys of the anger boiling up inside me. I’m only interested in expelling it in a fiery torrent like a volcano.
I take a step closer to him, leveling an angry finger at his chest.
“So excuse me for thinking maybe we were something more, and excuse me for thinking you’d actually have the balls to introduce me to your parents properly, because God knows you make this big fucking show of being so tough that nothing scares you. Except, oh wait, maybe you’re a coward after all—because if I am something to you and you just lied to your fucking parents—”
I shake my head, breathing hard.
“I’m not going to be some dirty little secret, someone you shove aside when people you really care about are around. I’m not the kind of person who—don’t you think for one second that—and God, would it have killed you to just—”
Nothing I’m saying is making much sense anymore, but my mouth won’t stop moving. My thoughts just keep pouring out in a jumbled up mess.
“I didn’t ask for anything! You’re the one who decided to stay and get all soft on me when I woke up, you’re the one who decided to look after me and kiss me! You chose all of that! And I’m pretty fucking sure you threw the Trial qualifications fight, bucko, so—”
Dmitri grabs my wrists, jolting me into a halt. He’s glaring at me, his eyes burning, and I’m not scared of him—I never have been—but I have to admit seeing him like this pulls me up short in my tirade. He looks like he’s about to go off on a rant himself, and I can see the muscles in his neck and jaw straining as he tries to hold himself back.
“It’s not like that,” he snarls. He squeezes my wrists, seems to realize he’s possibly hurting me, and lets go. “Jesus Christ. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like, genius?” I snap. I’m not going to cry in front of him, I’m not, and the only other option I have is anger.
“I do care—”
“Yeah? You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Damn it, Elliot, I’m trying to tell you I’m engaged!”
He’s—
What?
“What the fuck?” I blurt out.
Dmitri stills, staring at me. He draws in a deep breath and lets it out, his expression drawn and strained. “I don’t want you for just a quick fuck, Princess. If I did, I would’ve slept with you when we first met, or I would’ve moved on by now. I do care about you. More than I should. But the reason I kept trying to keep you at arm’s length is that I’m—”
“Engaged.” My lips form the word, but I can’t believe I’m saying it. “Yeah, you mentioned that. Does your fiancée know you’ve been as good as cheating on her?”
Without waiting for an answer, I head for the door. I don’t need to hear this. I feel sick. I helped someone basically cheat on some poor, unsuspecting girl—
Dmitri barrels around me and gets in the way, pressing his hand on the door to stop me from opening it. “Fucking hell, you are an impossible woman. Will you just hold on and let me explain? I’m not—it’s not exactly a traditional… I didn’t propose or anything.”