Page 77 of Adam
Oh, I know many ways to occupy that pretty mouth of hers, but I need to keep my shit together and behave.
Hell, I have to push her away from me.Sure, good luck with that, Manson …
“Can’t we just go back? We’re late already anyway, and I want to go to sleep.” She sighs, her brows furrowing.
My eyes find hers from the rearview mirror. “And you’re gonna ghost your sexy, blind date? Shame on you.”
Of course I don’t mean that. Christ, I wish I did. That would be easier if I could just not care about her. But everything in me burns from the weight of this lie. It’s like acid under my skin.
How tempting it is to just take her … Just grab her, run, leave this fucked-up world behind and never look back. God, I’ve thought about it. A thousand times.
But that won’t fix it. That’s just putting a bandage on a bullet wound.
No, this shit has roots, and if I want her safe, if I want peace, I have to cut the head off the hydra.
And her father …
Oh, he’s the first fucking head that needs to roll.
“What is wrong with you?” She scoffs, annoyance in her tone.
“I told you, everything is fine.”
I don’t look at her, but I can feel her eyes stabbing into me, full of hate. I can almost taste it in the air.
“I’m just doing my job,” I add.
She freezes for a few seconds, oblivious of what to reply. “Of course you do.”
Yep, she does hate me.
She should hate me. Hell, I want her to. But she still couldn’t hate me half as much as I hate myself for having to do this to her now.
Not until I know she’s safe.
Safe from the mess I drag around.
Safe from me.
She looks away, lips all pouty and bruised from biting them—probably so she wouldn’t say the shit she’s dying to scream at me. She’s hurt, and I’m the asshole who did it.
Then the radio puts on a song I half recognize. It takes me a second before I realize it’s P!nk. “Trustfall.” Some sick joke from the universe.
Couldn’t have picked a better anthem for our situation.
That’s what trusting me gets you.
I turn the volume higher, just to catch her expression changing and see her face brighten. As expected, there’s a mild positive surprise on her face, and her eyes return to mine.
Fuck, I savor her innocence and the way she softens when something small catches her off guard.
“I thought you didn’t like her,” she says, her eyes fixated outside the window, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“I don’t.”
The scoff she lets out is sharp, almost a laugh strangled by disbelief. “I don’t understand you. One moment you look at me like you want to devour me, and the next you act like I mean nothing. Like I’m just part of your job.”
What I told her is true. I am a liar. A manipulator. Deception is the only language I know. It’s easy and effortless. But with her, every lie drags a piece of me down with it, and yet, I still do it. I have to do it.
