Nicholas sliced through the throng of partygoers like an arrow set on the piano room. He couldn't even look at the damn instrument without wanting to set it ablaze, so he made sure to avoid it as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet.
She had been pretending all along.
His thoughts elsewhere, he poured himself a generous measure, the amber liquid cascading into the glass with a rhythmic glug. Raising the glass to his lips, he relished the searing heat that coursed down his throat with each swallow.
It all made sense now. The teasing banter on the bus, the way she had baited him into a kiss in this very room only to stop him when he fell for it.
The air grew thick, suffocating as if the walls were closing in around him. Heat prickled at his skin, his collar suddenly constricting like a noose around his neck. With a desperate need for space, for air, he tore at the fabric.
God, he had to get out of that room and away from the memories swirling around and threatening to consume him. With unsteady steps, he made his way out, shedding his suit blazer on the way.
He had underestimated Valeria's intelligence and instincts, foolishly believing he could manipulate her without consequence. Of course, she had seen right through his facade.
He had tried to teach her a lesson and it backfired, and that wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part, which he hadn't wanted to admit even to himself, was that he hadn't been pretending for quite some time.
At first, yes, he had. The basketball game in physical education class, the chemistry lessons, the ride to the casting, even the bus rides. It was all to get on her good graces, but somehow, somewhere along the way, something had changed.
He had no clue as to when, where, or how he had stopped hating her and had started craving her. But he did. Too much. And it hurt equality as much when she had told him she knew all about what he had been doing.
As he ascended the staircase with a desperate urgency driving him to put as much distance as possible between himself and the haunting memories below, his hand darted out, snatching a bottle of champagne from a passing server.
If she had been aware all along and chose not to confront him that could only mean two things. First, she had been laughing behind his back, waiting for the right opportunity to humiliate him. Second, she was using him. He got her an A on chemistry, persuaded Amelia to let her go to the casting, gave her a ride, and bought her a fucking expensive dress.
The harsh truth slammed into Nicholas with a vengeance, shattering the illusion he had crafted. That's what he got for trying to build something real on a foundation of lies.
Had any of it been real for her? Or had she merely played along, taking as much out of the situation as she could?
The tables had turned and he did not like the side of the game he had ended up on. The blinded side. The stupid side. The fantasy side.
How utterly foolish he had been to believe he could just sweep the ugly truths of the past under a rug of lies and carry on as if he'd been honest all along. To think they could simply move on like two people who were just getting to know each other, all the while praying she never found out the truth.
He hadn't even been aware of what Lana and the others had planned. If he had known, he would have never allowed them to do such a thing. He had only said he was a part of it to hurt her back because he was fucking aching.
And her face when he said it, her eyes brimming with hurt and betrayal. The dim flame of hope withering when he said he had been taking advantage of her—
YOU ARE READING
Scarred Hearts
Romance𝒲𝑒'𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔. ♡♡ 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 grew up with the finest things money could buy, but without the things it couldn't. For the briefest moment, he thought he had found a new mo...
