In a world of money, fame, and all the champagne that came with it, Camsy Colbert, the famous wedding planner, was alone. But it was fine; she was totally cool with being single. Men could never hold a steady relationship anyway.
She's invited to he...
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There were so many things I could say about Liam; He had a perfect jawline, brown hair, deep blue eyes, a pointed nose, and a body sculpted to perfection from all those hours at the gym. If you didn't know him like I did, you'd think he was mean. But I knew better. He just had this dangerous exterior.
At the same time, he was cute. He was the man I loved. Liam was sweet enough to show up at my doorstep every Saturday with a bouquet of roses to ask me to dinner. In fact, up until this moment, I'd been so sure I'd end up with him.
That was probably the reason why I couldn't believe he was the one passionately kissing a woman that wasn't me. My sweet Liam was cheating on me, and I had a front-row seat to view the entire show.
When he lifted the red-head, and she wrapped her legs around him, never breaking the kiss, my grip on the shot glass I was holding tightened. The room filled with drunk, gyrating people, suddenly felt too small.
Only when someone bumped into me, and the shot glass fell from my hand to the floor, shattering with a crash, did the couple spring away from each other. I held back a snort when the woman almost lost her footing in the process.
Liam's eyes went wide as saucers on spotting me, his jaw hitting the floor of the jazz club. I frowned and shifted my gaze to his partner, who was staring at Liam with a confused expression.
She was pretty; I'd give her that. Even though her lips were swollen and her hair looked like an animal had attacked her. She looked like a model and nothing like me.
The thought that Liam played her crossed my mind, but I shoved it away. I didn't care if she didn't know Liam was taken. She wasn't my problem. Liam was.
I used to love him. Now, I just wanted to stab his liver or something. For all the times he'd made me feel like he was the perfect boyfriend. For all the times he'd held me the same way he'd held the redhead while I watched.
I threw up in my mind.
"No. Camsy, it's not what it looks like," Liam said. "We were just-"
"-You were just nothing." Although I willed my voice to come out low and controlled, it sounded more squeaky and not controlled. Yes, I had this calm exterior, but I was boiling.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but by then, I'd decided I didn't want to hear an explanation. If I spent another second here, I'd lose it and throw him off a cliff.
The show was over. I wanted to go home and drown myself in my sorrows.
I turned around and headed towards the door, aware I'd drawn some attention. Behind me, I could hear Liam calling my name, begging for me to listen. But I didn't stop. At one point, his pleas were overshadowed by the yelling of another woman: The redhead.
I staggered out of the jazz club, slightly drunk and very high on life. The four-inch maroon heels I was wearing were practically digging into my feet. So with the anger from Liam's actions, I yanked off the deathtraps I'd specially worn to impress him and hurled them at a nearby wall. People standing around there scrambled away for their dear lives just nanoseconds before the heels collided with the wall behind them and broke.
