Текст книги "Weak Without Him"

Автор книги: Lyra Parish

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

FINNLEY
Fifteen

If I didn't hear from her soon, I would have the entire city swept from top to bottom to find Jennifer Downs. The Honda was missing, she was missing, and I had no idea where the hell she had gone. I was so desperate to find her that I even called Abbie. Damn it, I fucking hated doing it, but I had to track her. I turned into a giant pussy overnight, and I was worried. Worried that something terrible had happened to her. How could I not be?

Nothing would lift the feeling of desperation, loneliness, or worry. As I sped down the streets of Vegas, looking for her car, I received a single text from Luke.

Jennifer is with me. Boarding now.

I let out a long sigh of relief. Relief that she hadn't been kidnapped, relief that she didn't lose her fucking mind and pull another one of her ridiculous stunts like the last time I almost lost her. Jennifer fucking Downs had run to my little brother, and of course, he had taken her in. He was always a sucker for damsels in distress.

I smiled at the thought and at how stupid I had been to not contact him first. God, she was so predictable. At least I knew that she was in good hands, and hoped he would keep his hands to himself.

Another piece of me was pissed the fuck off. Why would she run to Luke if he meant nothing to her? She just called him up and ran into his arms. I wouldn't play these games. I wouldn't be left wondering about us, or her and Luke. If my brother were to choose between my happiness and his, he would choose mine. Luketon Brand loved me and would do anything for his big brother. He also knew how I felt about Jennifer, and without a doubt, if it came down to choosing, he would walk away. But would Jennifer?

She was the common denominator, and I couldn’t change her regardless of how much I fucking wanted to. There were times when she would fold for me, but other times when she stood so strong that a nuclear explosion couldn't knock her down. Smart ass, stubborn, and hardheaded—all character traits that described her perfectly. I really had met my match.

After the big conference this weekend, I had planned to surprise Jennifer by taking her to Paris. Fucking Jesse ruined that. I wasn't the dickhead to blame this time. Although it would be better if she hated me, and easier if we just walked away from one another, that wasn't happening. She was mine, I was hers, and no matter what happened, we would work it out. We had to.

I couldn't help but wonder what Luke would tell her. He was terrible at keeping my personal life personal and had a knack for revealing things I didn't want people to know. Undoubtedly, Jennifer would know everything about my childhood leading up to yesterday. Reason number fifteen why I didn't want his ass involved with The Elite. He would make me look like a giant pussy before it was all said and done, and I couldn't have that. I had a hard-ass image to uphold.

The constant nag of distress slowly disappeared and replaced itself with slight anxiety. When I wanted and expected Jennifer to react a certain way, she did the opposite. The unexpected drove me crazy.

Sixteen

It was dark when we arrived in Paris, but the lights below glowed and connected the city. The illuminations acted as veins and seemed to pulsate and purr as I imagined all the people below. We made it to the airport, which looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. A circle building with cement arms extended to the edges of the property, totally Star Trek or something. Or it could a combination of exhaustion and hunger creating those thoughts.

Luke rested his head against the seat until it was time for us to get off the plane. I leaned my head over toward his and he smiled.

"A driver will be waiting to take us to our flat. Shouldn't be much longer."

"Alright, Luketon Brand. I just want to sleep in a bed. Seriously don't even care about food right now."

My back hurt, everything hurt, and I felt numb all over. I expected snow, but got cool air as we walked through the hangar. The lights in the distance twinkled, and I was so relieved to be standing. The ride was worse than driving from Texas to Vegas; talk about turbulence and horrible food. But the Eiffel Tower made it all worth it, and I would suffer that trip a million times more just to see it.

A car waited for us just as Luke promised. We whizzed through the traffic, and I sucked in a deep breath. I scooted toward Luke; he wrapped his arm around me and held me close. I closed my eyes—the ones that were burning and tired from traveling—and almost dozed off. Luke just stared out the window.

"I've missed this place so much." It was like he spoke to me from a faraway place, lost in his memories.

"Oh, sorry. I must have drifted off again."

We sluggishly exited the car, and Luke grabbed my bags.

The building had thick columns and little balconies. Bourbon Street in New Orleans, I swore, had buildings exactly like this. Oh, French, right.

"Do you like it?"

I smiled at him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The driver handed Luke a set of keys, and we made our way to the front door. A studio apartment was filled with canvases, drawing paper, and a large open space for working. Not to mention, a couch, oversized chair, and a bed in the corner. There were no rooms; the floor plan was open. Well, except for the bathroom.

Luke dropped the bags on the floor and exhaled loudly as he searched around the room. He placed his hands behind his head and stretched.

"Everything I requested is here. I'll have a go at it tomorrow."

He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a piece of cheese for himself, and offered me a slice. I grabbed it and sunk my teeth into the creamiest piece of cheddar in the entire world. So creamy, I couldn't help but be vocal. He laughed.

"Hey don't judge me. This is good," I said.

"Totally not judging."

"Let's get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. So exhausted."

I unzipped my suitcase and went to the bathroom to put on my pajama pants and a shirt that said, "Texas has a bigger thing than yours." It was my favorite, and it was funny, at least I thought so. While I changed, Luke did as well. He wore a plain white shirt and pajama bottoms that hung loosely on his hips. He yawned, ran his fingers through his curly hair then laughed.

"I already said to not judge."

"I'm not. I swear to it."

We stood beside one another as we figured out the sleeping arrangements.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I said.

"No. I will."

"Paper, rock, scissors for it?"

Luke shook his head.

"Alright, flip a coin?"

He shook his head again.

"I'm not winning this argument, am I?"

Then he gave me a nod and a smile. I released a begrudging sigh and crawled under the covers. Luke searched the flat for an extra blanket and grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed. There was only a thin sheet, but he didn't complain and plopped on the couch.

I lay on my side and had no clue what time it was, but it seemed either late or early. I was thrown off of my schedule and hoped it would fix itself soon because I wanted to enjoy France.

Before I dozed off, I thought of Luke sleeping on that couch, and heard the springs as he twisted on the couch.

"Luke."

No answer.

"Luketon," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Come on. Come to bed. It's silly. You need a good night’s rest, and I won't take no for an answer."

Silence.

When I rolled over to look at him, he stood beside the bed with his pillow.

"I know there is no arguing with you. You're as bad as Finn."

He plopped the pillow down on the bed and slid under the blankets. I rolled over with my back toward him with a huge smile on my face.

"Goodnight," I said.

"Night."

We both drifted off to the sound of each other’s breathing in the room. I needed to sleep until my body told me it was time to wake.

Completely refreshed, I felt revived when I woke to an empty bed. After looking around, I saw Luke at the little table in front of the balcony sipping coffee with a sketchpad and pencil. He was so involved in his work that I didn't want to interrupt him. Instead, I stumbled to the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand and clothes in the other. My mouth tasted like I had eaten a cup of nastiness in my sleep. I blamed the cheese.

I pulled my frizzy mess of hair back into a tight bun that would have made any ballerina jealous. I stalked to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, wished for creamer, and sat at the table in front of Luke.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

He laughed. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon. I thought you’d never get up but couldn't find it in my heart to wake you. Seriously, you snore like a princess."

"I do not snore."

"Oh, you do. It's cute, though. Not like a chainsaw."

"Oh, shut it."

I sipped my coffee and hunger set in.

"I got you some croissants. I mean, they aren't bacon donuts, but I thought you would appreciate them."

I reminisced about Texas and that time Luke and I shared. It really was magical in its own way. I learned more about Luketon during that trip than during our time together in Vegas.

He slid a plate of chocolate dipped croissants my way, and my mouth instantly watered.

"I have an appointment at five with my client, then I'm free. Anything you'd like to do?"

"Show me the city the way you wanted me to see it before. That's what I want."

We sipped our coffee in synchronicity as he spoke over the rim of his cup.

"I'm not sure you can handle it, Miss Downs."

"That's not the first time I've been told that."

And truth be known, it wasn't.

Seventeen

The air smelled different, but the way the city spoke to me wasn't the same as the French Quarter. I couldn't quite place it. France streamed a constant hum of old electricity under the streets.

"Have you ever been to New Orleans?" I asked Luke, as I tucked my hands into my pockets and caught up to him.

"No. I haven't. But let me guess… it looks just like this?"

"Uh, yeah. Like, exactly. I can't get over it."

"That's what everyone says. Maybe we can visit one day? I'd love to eat the Cajun food."

"God, yes. Gumbo, etouffee, pistolettes." My mouth watered just thinking about it.

We continued down the street and passed a small bakery. Inside, a man kneaded dough then threw it in the air. A few more blocks and we entered an ancient looking office building. There were large paintings covering the walls, photographs, and sculptures made from steal pipes. It was like the building had dropped from outer art space.

I stood beside Luke. A petite woman with dark hair greeted us, and he responded to her. I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped when I realized that Luke was speaking French, the language of love. Holy shit.

The woman urged us to follow her, and Luke bent down and whispered in my ear, "She wants to take us on a tour."

"You never told me you spoke French," I whispered back.

"There are lots of things I don't say," he said, and grabbed my hand to lead me up the stairs.

Paintings of Paris filled the upper floor. Tons of them, of different sizes and shapes, all renditions of the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame Cathedral, and many other amazing attractions that people traveled from all over the world to see. I was really in Paris, and I listened to Luke speak the language of love so elegantly. The French words rolled off his tongue. He could have whispered anything in my ear, and I would have melted into his palm. Not only was I a sucker for accents; I was a lover of language.

"Jenn, Madam Louise says she loves your shoes," he said.

"Oh, thank you." I blushed.

"Merci, merci," Luke said.

The woman smiled at me, revealing perfectly white teeth, and tipped her head in my direction. Everyone knew what that meant; it was the universal "you're welcome" nod.

After walking through the museum, Madam Louise led us to a small office in the back where Luke signed his contract, and then we were on our way out the door. I couldn't hold back the smile on my face.

"I didn't know you spoke French, seriously, what other secrets do you have?"

"Dad is French and spoke the language, so really, I had no choice," he said.

"So, Finnley can speak French as well?"

Luke raised an eyebrow and nodded his head. I swear, the next time I talked to Finn it would be fifty fucking questions with him. Regardless of how pissed off I was, there were too many things that I needed to know. Or maybe I could ask Luke. Would he tell me?

We walked back to the flat and Luke grabbed a set of keys from the counter. Once outside he clicked the alarm button to find the car.

"Now that business is taken care of, I will show you the city how I know it," he said and cranked the car. The streets were so narrow that at times I closed my eyes, because I didn't think we would fit.

I tried not to focus on his driving but rather at the structures, the columns, and people walking. I wish I had a camera. I laughed and could barely contain my excitement.

In the distance, I caught a glimpse of the steel beams of the tower that had captivated me as a child. I didn't know why I was so addicted to that silly structure; maybe the history, or maybe it was the way it stood strong for over a century. The engineering that went into creating something that was used as an entrance to celebrate the French Revolution fascinated me. Okay, yeah, maybe I was a bit of a nerd when it came to history.

We parked the car in a back alley, and Luke ran around the front to open my door. I got out, looked into his blue eyes and time stood still, if only for a second.

"Shall we?" he said.

I swallowed, trying to pull myself from his trance. Maybe Paris really was the city of love, the city to learn, and the city where I would find new beginnings. Maybe I would start a new life without sex corporations and lose the constant nag that followed me around whenever I was away from Finnley. The sooner I got over him, the sooner we could both move on with our lives. But the truth was I didn't want to.

I pushed the thoughts aside and followed Luke down the sidewalk toward the crowd. I couldn't stop staring as the clouds drifted over the top of the Eiffel Tower. The pavement stretched on and so did the groups of people. When we made it to the base of the structure, a man greeted us with a camera.

"Mademoiselle, Monsieur, image," he said with a Polaroid camera in tow. Luke looked at me, and I looked at him. He placed his arm around my shoulder, and we smiled for the man with the thick French accent.

"No, no, no," the man said, and smooched his lips together making kissing sounds.

"No, no, that's not necessary," Luke said.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. The camera flashed, and I knew he had captured the moment in action. A moment I would treasure forever. As Luke paid the man, I took the picture and fanned it until the shock on Luke's face at my kissing his cheek appeared. I tucked the picture in my pocket as we pushed our way through the crowd of tourists. We stood on the edge of the sidewalk.

"We can go up to the second floor if you want," Luke said.

"Why are there so many people here?"

"It's Paris." He gave me a look. "There are always this many people here. So you've seen the Eiffel. Are you ready to see the city I know?"

"I guess," I said.

Luke grabbed my hand, and we walked down the busy streets of Paris, dodging the cyclists. Flags mounted along the side of the buildings blew in the breeze. The sun was setting, and the streetlights flickered on.

"Some call Paris the city of lights."

I could see why. Everything seemed to glow orange.

We walked for a mile or so. Then we crossed a bridge over the River Seine. I stopped and focused on my surroundings: the small carvings in the bridges, the people smoking and kissing on the side of the river, and the faint music in the background.

"I wish I could see Paris la nuit from your eyes," Luke whispered.

"Huh? I wish you could too," I said.

"Paris by Night. I wish I could see it from fresh eyes. We traveled from London to Paris all the time when I was a kid. You know, I believe Le Bateau Mouche is necessary. You'll adore it."

He pulled me further down the sidewalk until we stood in front of a white cruise boat with open seating. We climbed the stairs to the top and waited for everyone to board. The water was like glass, reflecting all of the surrounding lights.

We moved slowly, but I still couldn't soak in the sights fast enough. We drifted under bridges and passed Notre Dame, the Louvre, and Eiffel Tower.

"Wow, it's all so beautiful," I said.

At this moment, if anyone had observed us, we would have looked like the happiest couple in the world. One that was in love while enjoying the lights of Paris, but we weren't. We were nothing more than friends lost in a moment of time together, enjoying each other's company.

The boat slowed, then stopped, and all the other tourists exited.

"Hungry? I know the perfect place that has the most splendid crème brulee."

"Starving."

We passed waterfalls, cathedrals, half-naked statues, and traveled down deserted back roads until we came upon a well-lit area with traffic, people, and music. In the distance, I heard the bells from Notre Dame ring.

"It's eight o'clock. No need for watches with bells," Luke said.

We continued past the loud bars and restaurants then slipped inside of a small diner. Single candles lined the tables, and soft music played in the background.

"I know this song, 'Somewhere Beyond the Sea', Frank Sinatra," I said.

"Actually, Charles Trenet, La Mer. He wrote it in 1943 on a train from Paris to Narbonne. It's said that he wrote it on toilet paper and recorded the song three years later."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Une chanson d'amour pour vous," Luke whispered.

"That is so damn sexy. What did you say?"

"A love song for you."

I smiled, we exchanged a long glance, then both looked down at our menus.

Luke needed to stop.

I picked out keywords on the menu that looked like the English derivative. After trying too hard, I closed the menu and focused on the candles and the warm glow it cast upon Luke's face. His features were soft. He didn't look over the top of his menu when he spoke.

"What will you be having tonight?" he asked.

"Whatever you're having."

"Are you sure about that?"

I nodded my head.

A waiter arrived and I smiled, but didn't speak as Luke ordered. I watched the words form on his lips accompanied by tongue rolls when he spoke.

Within minutes, the waiter arrived with a bottle of Cabernet, bread, and snails. Yes, fucking snails. I looked down at the appetizer, then back at Luke, who thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

"They are delicious, I promise."

"You're feeding me…snails? How romantic," I said, with just a tad of sarcasm in my tone.

"It's like chocolate, oysters, wine…"

"If I didn't know better, Mr. Brand, I would say you are trying to turn me on with your French, bateau mouches, and double aphrodisiacs."

"I am the aphrodisiac," he whispered.

I almost spit wine everywhere. That was not the response I expected.

Eighteen

Our laughter filled the empty streets as we walked back to the car. We had too much wine, food, and crème brulee.

"I'm turned around. I think it's time we call a taxi," he said.

I walked with my arm around his waist as we stumbled and tried to steady one another. A taxi zipped across the street and screeched to a halt in front of us. Not sure why it was so damn hilarious. The wine had made me overly giddy.

Luke gave the driver directions in French. More narrow streets and close calls, then he paid the bill, and we exited. The world rocked as we stumbled down the sidewalk. The key just wouldn't fit in the door. Damn, we really had drunk way too much.

Once inside the flat, Luke leaned his shoulder against the wall to steady himself, and I did too. All jokes and laughter faded.

"What?" I said.

Luke moved closer without reverting his eyes. Silent words passed between us, and the world seemed to stand still. I sucked in a deep breath ready to interrupt the exchange, but before I could, he leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft, and I got lost in the moment before I realized what the hell was happening. I forced myself to pull away from him. The taste of berries and smell of alcohol left our mouths. All I could do was stare.

"I can't do this," I whispered.

"I'm sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me."

"No, I'm sorry. I don’t know if I gave the wrong impression or—"

"Jennifer." He swallowed and continued. "I've been wanting to kiss you since the last time I saw you. I've dreamt about exploring your body, laying you down on that bed and making sweet love to you."

"Luke."

"But I love my brother, and you do too."

He placed his lips on my forehead. That was as close as we would ever be. After tonight, I would make a note to keep my distance so as not to give mixed signals.

"I'm an idiot," Luke said. Guilt of what happened washed over him. I walked away from his warmth and from him. I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. My world continued to sway as I closed my eyes.

"I'm definitely an idiot," he said, and slipped under the blanket.

I rolled over and looked at him. "Stop it."

"I'm a masochist. I love being around you, but when I am, it's torture."

"That's messed up."

"You know what I mean." There was a long pause. "But that's the way the cards fell. I know Finnley and you were made for one another. It's obvious."

I just stared at him as he talked. He gave me a side glance and rolled his eyes.

"You can't tell me that when I talk about him it doesn't make your heart skip a beat."

I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. I really didn't want to talk about this.

"I can see it on your face."

"Finnley… is something else. A mystery. An enigma. Someone that I want to figure out like a puzzle. Someone who purposely pushes my buttons to the extreme."

"It's more than that. And it should be, he's a great person. Under his hard-ass persona, he's a huge softie. You'll see. He makes me look like I'm the dick of the family."

"Whatever."

"I swear to it."

"Pffft."

"I could tell you stories that you would never believe. He loves old movies and music. Forrest Gump is one of his favorites. He actually cried when he first saw it."

"It's the music. Everyone cries during that movie."

"Oh, until the age of twelve he slept with his teddy bear. When he met his first wife, he wrote stupid love songs that he played way too loud and even called to tell me how he was the luckiest man on the planet, daily. It was disgusting."

The look on my face must have told Luke everything. How the hell could I compare to that?

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"It's alright. I know he loved her, a lot. I just wonder if he is really ready to move on and try again or—"

"He is, or he would have never pursued you the way he has. That's why it's so wrong for me to even think about you in any other way than my brother's girlfriend. He has been unhappy for so long that I could never be the one to take that sliver of happiness away."

We both stared up at the ceiling, neither one of us said a word.

"You know, Father wanted to adopt Finnley. Give him his last name since he raised him from the age of two."

"Really? Why didn't he?"

"Because Finn said it wouldn't be right to erase his real dad's name. He is the only Felton left. I think that's why he was so excited to have kids. I can't wait until you meet the brother that I know. If you like him now, you'll fall in love with him. I've heard he's addicting."

Fall in love. Addicting.

I laughed to hide my feelings. Finn clouded my mind, made my body beg for him even though he was a thousand miles away.

"When will you talk to him?"

"Don't know. I need time to focus on me. I haven't done that since my parents' death."

"Understandable."

I yawned, and Luke did too. The wine pulled my eyelids shut. I rolled over on my side, and we lay back to back.

"Goodnight, Jennifer."

"Night," I somehow responded before I completely drifted off to dreamland.

I woke to the sound of eggs sizzling and the smell of bacon. Luke stood in the kitchen wearing cotton pants that loosely hung on his hips. I rolled over and watched him crack eggs, neatly stack bacon, and pour orange juice in tall glasses. He placed his breakfast masterpiece on the little table by the window and walked to the bed to wake me, but I was too busy smiling.

"Please tell me you're not a Susie homemaker too," I said.

"I'm not. But I can cook a mean breakfast."

I rolled out of bed and zombie'd my way to the table. My head hurt, the worst kind of hurt too, wine-hangover hurt. I needed to stop drinking so much. My body hated wine in large quantities.

Luke handed me two aspirin with my orange juice, and I took them graciously.

"We drank way too much," he said, then made our plates.

"Oh God, I know. So happy we didn't do anything stupid."

"Should have," he said.

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't know if he was joking or not.

Someone once told me that a drunk man's truths were a sober man's lies, whatever that means. But I knew that Luke wouldn't do anything out of respect for Finnley. I could strip down naked and beg him to fuck me, and I know for a fact that he would deny me. Might be hard, but he would. I had no doubt about that.

"I know you've officially friend-zoned me," he said.

I took a sip of my orange juice. "You've been friend-zoned for a looooong time, Luke. But that's cute you just realized it."

"You must not be a morning person. Just don't become a little Finn," he said.

I lifted my eyebrows. "I should be saying that to you."

"That's not fair considering he's older than me, and you know, we are brothers."

"Uh-huh." I laughed.

We finished our food, perfect crispy bacon and fluffy eggs, and Luke carried the dishes to the sink.

I stared out the window at the people on the sidewalk below. The noises of the movement from the street below seeped in and all I wanted to do was discover Paris.

"I've got to start my project if I'm to make the deadline."

"Can I go with you… and watch?"

"It's going to be boring. I mean, I'll be at it all day long."

"It's okay, I'll check my email and play online."

I hurried to my suitcase and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a sweater. Then I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, hair, and was ready to go with my laptop as Luke grabbed his backpack full of pencils and paintbrushes.

Before we left, his phone vibrated on the small table. He walked over, picked it up, then narrowed his eyes as he walked toward me.

"It's for you," he said, as we walked out the door.

"Hello?" I was just a little confused as to who would be calling and why.

"Oh, so you're going to speak with me? What the fuck, Miss Downs? You've refused to answer my calls and you've failed to tell me where you were going. Running away with my brother is un-fucking-acceptable."

I tried to squeeze in a word, but Finnley had nothing but rage in his voice. The anger behind his tone pissed me off.

"You acted like a woman-child leaving. You can be so… ridiculous, and predictably unpredictable."

I tried to cut in again.

"Let. Me. Speak," he said between gritted teeth. "That's the second time you've left me Miss Downs. I won't beg you to stop again, so next time you bugger off, make sure it's the last."

I scoffed. "Don't threaten me."

"I'm not fucking threatening you, Miss Downs. I will neither chase nor beg you, ever again."

"I don't expect you to and oh, I guess we're back to formalities then?"

"You can bet your ass we are, Miss Downs. Especially after your little stunt."

"Stunt? Stunt?"

"Have you fucked my brother yet?"

I yelled as I followed behind Luke down the street. People stared at me as they scurried past. I lowered my voice but made sure to stress every syllable that came out of my mouth. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're an enormous asshole."

"Asshole, bastard, dickhead. Find better words, Miss Downs, those are old hat and overly used."

I grumbled at him, and he hung up the phone. He hung the fucking phone up on me? Ugggggggggh!

As soon as I caught up to Luke, I shoved the phone back in his hand and tried to walk past him. I needed to get my pent up aggression out somehow.

"I assume it went well."

I stopped walking and turned on him. "And you're an asshole for handing me the phone without a damn warning."

"Don't crucify the messenger," he said nonchalantly.

"How long has he known I was with you?"

Luke checked his watch, unamused, and walked past me.

"Did you expect me not to tell him? Finn was worried. I couldn't fly you to Paris and not tell your boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend."

"If he were seeing other people, would you be pissed? Do you fuck him when he wants? Does he fuck you when you want? Buy you nice things? Whisper sweet nothings in your ear?"

He waited for an answer. I didn't have one.

"That's what I thought," he said. Luke never raised his voice, got upset, or anything. He was so well controlled while I boiled completely over with anger.

"Funny how you've both inquired about who I'm fucking. He thinks I'm fucking you, and you think I'm fucking him. Who gives a shit? This is not fair."

"What's not fair? The fact that you heard the truth and don't want to accept it, or that I'm right? And by the way, I know you're fucking him. I've never questioned that."

"You are just as impossible as him. Do you know that?"

He laughed at me and kept walking. I wanted to scream and yell out my frustration and pent up aggression. Fucking fuck!

Part of me wanted to find a little Internet café and set up shop there, but regardless of how pissed I was, I genuinely wanted to watch Luke work.

Silent fucking treatment. They would both get it from here on out.