Ambrose has been in love with his best friend, Lana Hart, for years.
But she tied the knot with the love of her life three years ago, leaving Ambrose broken-hearted and disillusioned about love.
Enter Davina, the most difficult girl Ambrose has ever...
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He hates me.
That thought sliced through me, cutting deep and leaving a path of destruction with no way of repairing insight. I should be happy; I started everything, to begin with, but it still cut me. Tears threatened to escape, but my powerful shield could hide the mess within.
It's funny how much I tried ignoring my emotions, yet they always seemed to overwhelm me. Annalise had pointed out whenever I was in a broken state. I masked the pain with my makeup, having it bolder than usual. While on my better day, my eyelids are decorated with natural colors.
How did things end up like this?
I didn't mean to fuck everything up.
Just seeing his face made me angry, and I couldn't seem to tell him what I really felt. Why did I say those things to him at the beach? If I kept my mouth shut, everything would've stayed fine. I wouldn't be on the verge of losing the lid on my emotions.
"If we were really dating, do you think it would've worked out?"
I cringed at my statement.
Of course, there's no way it would work out, dummy.
Annalise had mentioned whenever the things within overgrew their secret place in my chest that they come out in little rants. I guess they didn't want to stay hidden anymore, yet I completely lied about hating him.
I couldn't even if I tried.
Ambrose was right. We were doomed to fail from the beginning because we're polar opposites after all. Our relationship has been fake the entire time. Any form of friendship has evaporated. I shared all these significant things about myself, details only two other people knew about.
I made the biggest mistake of opening myself up to my enemy.
Couldn't blame anyone but myself.
The music blared through speakers, blasting my eardrums as I shuffled in front of them. People said alcohol was a depressant, but it served the opposite for me. Booze was another part of my shield to keep the bubbling Davina from losing her shit in the middle of the dancefloor. From the way my chest ached if I didn't get any drinks in me; crystal tears would release like Niagara Falls.
I aggressively slammed my hand on the bar. "Two shots of vodka please."
The bartender grinned. "No problem, Madame. Just one moment as I finish up this fella's order."
"Hey, Davina!" Ryler's violently painful voice shouted, grabbing my shoulders to swing my body in her direction. "I'm having a little malfunction! One of the chefs quit, and he hadn't finished making the white truffle for guests. I know you have an incredible recipe and I wondered if I could borrow you for a second to help me."
The bartender placed the two shots on the wooden counter, and I hastily threw them back before replying. Ryler and I weren't as close as we claimed on social media. Like my relationship, our friendship was a sham. Once upon a time, our friendship was genuine. We cared about each other and valued one another's feelings until I hit the ballpark in the fame department.
