on here?”
Mr. Banks? That’s his last name? I roll it over on my tongue, Roman—no, Rome—Banks. Sounds a bit professional.
“Get out.” His cold tone snaps me out of my inner musings, and a sharp stitching pierces my chest. My heart sinks at the coldness reflected back at me and the shard of ice in his tone. I can feel each jagged sliver cutting me open, digging into my flesh.
I pause, my mouth dropping open in shock, as I try to explain. I expected a little frustration, but anger? To this degree? I obviously overestimated myself.
His hands ball into fists at his sides, and I swear, I can see the color slowly seep into his cheeks. He looks like he’s ready to blow.
“Rome, wait. It’s washable, I promise. I would never—”
“Get out!” he barks with such contempt, both his companion and I jump, startled by the force of his rage. The woman eyes me with an odd expression, as I gather my stuff. My body pricks, as I feel their gazes on me. Shame coats my skin, turning my stomach. Embarrassment presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s like a boulder has been dropped on top of me, and I can’t breathe.
My hands tremble, as I try to gather everything, as quickly as possible, but just like before, everything keeps slipping, tumbling from my hands and rolling onto the floor. The backs of my eyes prick with tears. I just want to get out of here.
I’m so embarrassed.
So fucking stupid.
“For fuck’s sake, hurry up!” he growls.
My bottom lip trembles, and my nose stings with pressure. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, holding back the impending sob I feel gathering in my chest like a Category 5 storm. Finally, I manage to gather everything, without any further mishaps, and I slip out with my tail tucked between my legs.
I don’t bother looking back. I’m too embarrassed to face them, to see the look in their eyes. Most of all, I don’t think I can face Roman again, not after the look of pure contempt in his gaze.
Dread takes root in my belly, when I hear pounding footsteps behind me, as I make my way down his porch steps. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. I can smell him. I can feel him, his brutish aura surrounding us. The very essence of him percolating in the air.
“How fucking stupid are you?” he hisses, and the words hang in the air between us, stopping me in my tracks. When I turn to face him, the urge I felt to cry is now gone, and in its place is a sudden bout of anger. Unrestrained rage.
He has no right to talk to me this way.
“I’m sorry,” I grit out. “If you would just let me explain, instead of acting like a—”
“Like a what?” he growls, taking a threatening step toward me. His brows take a nosedive, and they slant down, casting eerie shadows across his face. “You fucking trashed my house. Did you really think I’d come home and fucking laugh it off? You can’t really be that dumb, can you?”
I jerk back, as though he’s slapped me in the face. Tears fill my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. Inside me is a riot of mixed emotions. But my ire and frustration with him, that’s what I hold on to.
With rage now surging through my body in short spurts, I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us. I jab an angry finger against his firm, warm chest.
“I did not trash your house. It’s a fucking prank, for goodness’ sake. Because I one-upped you, I’m suddenly the bad guy?”
“One-upped me?” He scoffs. “This isn’t a fucking game, Olivia!”
“Then what is it?” I shout, my voice echoing down our quiet street.
My chest heaves I’m so furious. I can’t even see straight. It’s making it hard to concentrate. My hands and body shake, and my heart is pounding so violently, I fear it’ll burst out of my chest cavity soon.
A moment passes between us, when we just glare at each other, letting our frustrations permeate the air we breathe.
“How is it okay for you to treat me this way, to be such a fucking prick all the time, to do all the things you do, but when I do it, I’m suddenly the one who’s wrong? It’s washable. Nothing about what I did today was permanent. It was