Page 93 of Dissolving Prejudice

“It’s no longer important.” He sniffed, and ugh.

Fuck my life.

Getting up from the barstool I was sitting on, I walked over to him. “What was it? Is your body hurting?” I eyed his bruises, which weren’t that bad if I were honest, especially if I compared them to how my dad used to beat me up.

Oro cleared his throat before meeting my skeptical stare. “I just thought that we could talk? I’m bored.”

“Why would I want to talk to you?”

His eyes widened, and he pursed his lips like a brat. “You’re mean.”

“I am.” I crossed my arms. “And I’m here against my will, so unless you need to go to the hospital, just lie quietly and—”

“You’re a lot less pretty than I thought you’d be,” he cut into my words, his eyes latched on me.

Unsure if I heard correctly, I frowned. “What was that?”

A little smirk pulled on his lips before he sat up on the couch. As he did, the blanket Camilo covered him with earlier slipped to his waist, giving me a glimpse of his naked torso. His fair skin stood in contrast against his pink nipples, and my mouth curved with displeasure.

“I said, you’re a lot less pretty than what I thought you’d be.” He played innocent with a genuine look plastered on his face. “Camilo always speaks about what a beauty you are, but you’re just a plain blond.” He flashed me a toothy smile that gave away his act. “I’ve seen a hundred faces like yours.”

I’m sorry, did he just say… Camilo?

“Camilo?”

“That’s his name, isn’t it?” He answered without a hint of shame, as if he had any claim to my man’s name.

My irritation spiked, and not knowing what this kid’s deal was, I decided to let it go, and only because I was scared of punching the smirk off his face.

“Just go back to sleep or something,” I said and was ready to walk back to the kitchen when he went on.

“How old are you?”

I stayed quiet.

“You look old.”

Oh. My. God.

“I just turned twenty,” he said cockily.

“Happy birthday.”

He chuckled. “You’re funny.”

Mostly annoyed.

“So what’s your deal? Do you have a husband now?” he went on snooping.

“I don’t have any deal.” I sat back on my barstool and pulled out my phone. “Please be quiet.”

“Are you and Camilo getting back together, then?”

He once again challenged my patience, and I had to bite my lips together only so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret later. “None of your fucking business. Now, shut up.”

Thankfully, he finally listened and stopped yapping his nonsense. And what the fuck was that about me being old? I was only twenty-three.

“Hey, mister,” he said again.