Hating the Guy at the End...

Chapter Twenty-Three: Living in a Facade

What can I say about Samuel Isiah Jones? For one, he's an asshole with a past, my bad boy with a fast car and rebel ways. Samuel Jones is not a guy that wraps himself in money or status, he doesn't care what the people around him thinks of his ways, nor does he take the subject of his father likely. This is a man with many truthful words and many secrets, this is a man of honor and danger, this is a man that I want to spend he rest of my life with. I love Samuel Isiah Jones, and he loves me too.

Love is nothing to toss around with, you can't throw the world at anyone and expect to take it back. For my entire life, as far as I can remember, I always wanted this feeling. The feeling of wanting to strangle him and also wanting to kiss all over his face, the need to cry and also smile while doing so, the thought of hugging his muscular body and also pushing him away. It was a whirlwind of emotions, a nonstop roller coaster with no lever to just stop.

I imagined myself to have this moment, to hear those three words coming out of my partners mouth and me returning them. However, I never fathom us having a huge fight and me saying the opposite response. I don't hate Samuel, at least not after we became serious, it was the first thing that came to mind.

I looked up at him after crying my eyes out, he still held me close, eyes full of worry as if he were the one to make me cry. Technically, no, it wasn't him- even though he lied about the timing of the relationship, I'm not upset with him. "I look terrible, don't I?" I couldn't help but ask, I tend to have an ugly aftermath face when having a breakdown.

Samuel chuckled lightly, "You look great."

"You're a terrible liar."

He leaned down to capture my lips, but before we can even brush them against each other; the annoying buzzer and loud banging ruined the moment. Samuel painfully peeled away to see who's throwing a fit at his door, I can only pray it's not Diana; I won't be able to control myself if it is. Fortunately it's not, it was someone far worse.

"Have you lost your fucking mind!?" The deep voice filled the quiet large space, the air shifted from happy to rage, and the room turned dark when he stormed further into the apartment. Samuel's father stepped into the living room, face twisted up in anger and disgust when he noticed my presence. I knew why he was so angry and disgusted, the evidence was balled up in his hand- suffering from his iron grip.

"Leave now. We're not doing this." Samuel tried his best to make his father leave, even stepped in between us to shield me from his wrath.

"Your mother have to find this photo, this disgusting trash in our mailbox. For fuck sake, I thought you crossed the line at drugged up models, now you have to fuck pros-"

"Fuck off!" Samuel finally cracked, face twisted up with the same amount of anger, fingers balled up into fist, eyes dark. "Refer to Joy as a prostitute again, I will-"

"You will what, huh? Hit your own father for a slut."

"Samuel," I called out, immediately getting in between them both so the problem doesn't escalate. "Don't, not for me." I urged out, both of my hands on his chest that fell hard every time he exhaled. That raging beast was clawing it's way out again, there's a matter of time before he would act on its desire. Even though his father's a total dick that needs to be punched in the face a few times, I can't allow Samuel to do it. He can ruin the relationship he has with his entire family- specifically his mother, I know he loves her more than anyone else.

"This could of gone out to everyone, our family would be the laughing stock, our name would of been ruined."

"Fuck our name!" He took that threatening step forward, but I used all my strength to hold him back. "Fuck those people! Fuck you!"