CHOICES (Completed)

VANILLA MATTHEWS

I tap my cheeks to restore normalcy and turn around to come face to face with the living personification of the sick feeling going on inside of my stomach right now.

He has his hands in the pockets of his jeans and he has tilted his head to the side, as he leans against the doorframe. He seems perfectly the same, illegally good looking, and without any regret for his previous adventure. I notice the chiselled jawline and the tempting lips that wear a teasing smile on themselves.

I sigh helplessly. Why does he have to look this sinfully perfect?

“I thought you enjoyed the performance to the fullest already, clearly you haven’t had enough. Of me.” His amused and arrogant voice breaks my stare and I look down to hide the creeping blush. He is so impossible.

“Don’t worry sweetheart you can be the next one in her place, I can arrange that.”

My composure falters for a second, before I regain it. It’s not like you don’t want it. My subconscious barks cheekily. It would be so much better if she just shuts up and helps me with a comeback.

“Thank you so much, I think the vomit that had been reluctant to leave my system up until this minute, surely will now, after hearing that.”

“God help me, it didn’t hurt you so bad to see that, now did it?”

Did it? Did it? The hurt, if and whatever I had felt, was certainly masked by their chosen manner of hurting. Perhaps if he would’ve been a bit more hygiene conscious, maybe-

What the hell is wrong with me.

“Honestly Hardin, you are so sick in your head. And I don’t care if you live or die, I wouldn’t even turn back to glance at the coffin.” I lie, with a straight face, hoping that my eyes reflect a confidence that would help it seem like a truth.

The idea of Hardin getting physically, fatally hurt, is… unsettling and so I don’t think about it. It’s not like he won’t deserve it, but it’s not in me to wish something so cruel for anyone, in general, let alone him that I cared for so deeply, even though in the past tense.

I just say it in hopes to hurt him, probably because of his hurting me before. I know it was childish to no extremes, but seeing him suddenly, after such a long time, has reminded me of everything, and I would do anything to numb it.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, love, but then the typical ‘leaving the table violently and dashing away because you can’t see the love of your life with someone else’ act that you pulled right now, speaks otherwise.”

“Oh I’m sorry if I’m not used to having my food in the presence of two overly desperate and disgusting bodies clawing each other’s faces out, all smeared with drool and spit, making noises that would make pigs shy away. I’m so sorry.” I place my hands on my hips and look straight at him. Take that.

Its strange to hear him refer to himself as ‘the love of my life’. Even though it’s sarcastic, and Hardin would never ever mean it in a sane state, it still makes me wonder if he is.

This is too early, we are too young . And I don’t want to believe that ‘the love of my life’ had pulled that stunt on me, or that he had hurt me beyond measure like no one else before. But then again, the point was the fact he could hurt me, was because I had let him. Because I had loved him.

He takes two steps towards and I make sure not to lose my stance or my sanity. He decreases the space between us, getting closer until his face is inches from mine and my decision shivers.