Page 40 of Bitter When He Begs

And Sage… Sage is a problem because he makes me feel. I have no idea when it happened or how it started, but he’s under my skin and I want him out. I can’t afford another addiction when I’m not even over the pills.

By the time I step out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around my waist, the locker room is quiet, the air thick with leftover steam. I walk back to my locker, run a hand through my wet hair, and take a slow breath before I dry off and get dressed. I need to fucking sleep, so I can do this bullshit all over again tomorrow.

I feel eyes on me and I tense, rolling my shoulders before turning and looking right at the object of my frustration. He’s standing just inside the doorway, jaw tight and face flushed like he sprinted here or worked himself up on the way.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to see him.

Not now. Not like this.

I force a smirk, leaning against the locker, towel slung over my shoulder, and playing it off like I don’t see the way his hands are clenched into fists at his sides, or the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

“You lost, Sunshine?”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything. “I want to talk.”

I sigh dramatically, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t.”

I expect him to back down, because I don’t want to talk. Not when I still have the ghost of his voice in my fucking head, not when I still feel the phantom weight of him in my lap, not when I still remember the way he came apart on top of me.

Of course, he decides to have a backbone today. He steps forward, his chin tilting up, determination burning in his eyes. “I don’t care what you want.”

I could let him say whatever the fuck he came here to say, listen, and let this turn into something real. I could let him in. But I don’t. So I do what I do best… I tear him apart before he gets the chance to do it to me.

“Fucking persistent, aren’t you?” I run a hand through my damp hair again, exhaling like I’m bored, like I don’t feel need curling in my chest just from having him this close. “Alright, Sunshine. Talk.”

Sage hesitates, and that pisses me off. “You show up all worked up, red in the face, looking like you’ve got something to say, and now you’re quiet?”

His throat bobs, and I wait. Then he shakes his head and steps back. “Forget it.”

Fuck that.

An ugly version of me takes over, the side of me that knows exactly how to hurt him, exactly how to make sure he doesn’t come back.

I smirk, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “What’s wrong? Damien didn’t fuck you good enough the other night so you figured you’d try your luck here instead?”

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Sage flinches, and fuck, it shouldn’t make me feel like shit, but it does. I don’t fucking mean it. I don’t mean any of it, but I need him to leave. I need him to stop looking at me like that.

So I keep going.

“Or did you come crawling back because you missed being my little toy? You’re just another fucking distraction, Sage. Just another thing to pass the time. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and I barrel over whatever half-thought he was going to offer.

“You think this—” I gesture between us, flinging the towel toward the bench without looking where it lands “—was anything more than a way to scratch an itch? You’re easy. You show up, you give me those eyes, you’re always fucking there, and yeah, I wanted to see what the hype was about. That’s all it ever was.”

He doesn’t move, or even speak, but his breathing gets shallow and ragged. Like I’ve taken the air right out of his lungs.

“Go back to your frat, Sage,” I say, quieter now, but not softer. “Go pretend none of this happened. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to convince himself I’m wrong. And then his chin dips, just a little, and he nods once.

“Okay.”

It’s the quietest fucking word I’ve ever heard, but it lands harder than a shout.