Page 104 of Relationship Goals

He made me like who I was. Luke Wolfe made me think I was just right for him.

I confided in him. I showed him the real me. And he told me my ex was an asshole for using me.

Then I took him to bed.

“I can’t breathe,” I say, sucking in great ragged breaths.

It was a lie. Everything he said, all the wonderful ways he made me feel.

All of it. One huge fucking lie…

All to sell tickets.

The world spins in front of me, like a top thrown off its axis. I feel so, so stupid. Stupid and hurt and used and sick and dizzy with it all.

When am I ever going to learn? When will I learn that I should be careful with my heart, with myself? I’m always saying the wrong thing, always trusting the wrong person. It hurts. Everyone told me to be careful with him.Lukeeven told me he was an asshole, and I was the idiot who wouldn’t listen.

I am a fool. Again.

This time, though, he made me one.

Luke Wolfe used me, just like my ex, just like my so-called best friend, Olivia, and he’ll drop me the moment this is no longer a convenient ploy.

Maybe I should be the one to make it inconvenient for him this time.

Just like that, the sadness turns to something hard and hot inside me, something bitter and jagged.

Fury.

“It’s okay, just cry it out. It’s okay,” Michelle says, and my eyes flutter open, the world suddenly righted, no longer spinning.

“I’m not sad,” I repeat, glaring at her phone where it lies on the floor. “I’mangry.”

“Oh,” she repeats, and there’s a world of meaning in that one syllable.

“Call Tristan back,” I say, my fingers scrabbling over the hard case of the phone. “We need details.”

“What? Why?” Michelle asks.

“Because Luke played me,” I grit out. “And I’m going to get even.”

“Oh!” she says on an exhale as I push the phone into her hand. “I mean, you could just break up with him, right?” Her tone is full of trepidation, and for some reason, it pushes me completely over the edge.

I’m no longer dog-paddling in an ocean full of hurt.

Nope.

Now I’m diving straight to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, ignoring the way the pressure squeezes my lungs.

I’m headed for vengeance.

“Call Tristan,” I repeat, jumping to my feet, my brain skipping along like a pissed-off hamster on a wheel. “This is the last time someone tries to use me.”

I sniffle, wiping my nose. Why can’t I stop crying? We barely dated. A week. It’s been a week.

It’s the fucking principle of the thing. I thought he liked me for me, all my weirdness, all my quirks.

“Hello?” Tristan’s voice slurs across the room on speakerphone, and I give Michelle an enthusiastic thumbs-up.