MAGNETIC [H.S.]

9. the jealous type

"No. Now sit down, we need to talk."

"Ask nicely, Dimples." She was pushing it. My patience was beyond thin right now.

She was standing there in her stupid ass pink robe that barely dusted the tops of her thighs, and I wanted to eat her alive.

"Ashton. Sit Down." My blood was still boiling. My hands were twitchy, I wanted to pin her against the nearest wall and make her scream my name until her windows shattered.

It had been so long, so fucking long since the last time I felt her around me, I never wanted to leave her. I forgot how ridiculously addictive she was in bed.

I'd never wanted to kill my best friend until I watched him slide inside her. He was very lucky that she was there to distract me or he wouldn't have made it out of here in one piece.

Was that fair to him? No. Absolutely not. However, I simply did not care at the time. He was inside her and he deserved a broken body part for it.

My ears were still ringing, hearing her call his name. It was cruel, the way my own brain could punish me like this. My mind was nothing but a highlight reel of every time I'd made her cry out my name since we were stupid teenagers, and then "Oh! Ni!" cuts through like searing hot poker.

Did I have any claim over Ashton? No.

Did I have a claim over her in our group of friends? Yes.

They knew. They all knew that Poppet was mine. Well, except for Liam, he was too high back then to know any better. He never knew what the fuck was going on.

I hated her for how much she invaded my mind. Since I was 18 years old that woman had branded herself on my mind and body.

She couldn't know that though.

She was never supposed to be more than my friend's annoying sister.

She was never supposed to be part of the group, she was never supposed to know us like that.

She was never supposed to look at me the way she did.

I was never supposed to touch her the way I did.

I was never supposed to dream of her.

I was never supposed to know the way she tasted.

She was never supposed to leave.

She did though, and I couldn't forget it. Sometimes when I see Liam's name light up my phone I feel my stomach drop, like I'll relive that phone call all over again.

"She's not there, Harry. Fuck, she's not there, what if she's hurt!? What if something happened to her, what if someone took her? Why didn't she make it to L.A. H!? Where is she!?"

Liam was convinced that a client had taken her. He was convinced that a deal went bad and someone was using her for ransom, using her to hurt us.

I never told him how long I kept looking for her.