Chapter Eighteen

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I want to fly to Georgia, track down her dad, and beat him to a bloody pulp for hurting her. She'd hate me for beating up her prick of a father, but I can't help my instinct to protect her, to avenge her for every tear flowing down her beautiful face. She doesn't deserve to be in pain like this, she is the most precious person and deserves to be treated as such. I knew she was hurting when my idiotic mistake was revealed, but to hear that she's felt even worse pain than this since then makes me want to beat myself up. Until I am nothing but blood and regret.

Her family are the ones that stick around forever. I would love to say I'm guaranteed in her life, but I'm too much of an idiot who fucks up more than I should. They are the ones who are supposed to protect her, love and take care of her. Blood is thicker than love, right? I for one know that's total bullshit. I love her more than life itself, and I mean it in every sense. More than air, more than drugs, more than my damn self. I'd throw myself on a flaming sword for her. Yet, I was a fucking fool and ruined her all for a stupid game. I didn't know how much she makes life worth giving a shit about, but now that I do, now that she gave me a taste of euphoria, I swear to never hurt her again... well, I I'll try my best not to, anyway.

Simply holding her in what feels like a century feels better than words can describe. Sure, we had sex and that was mind-blowing and relieving on a whole other level. But smelling her lavender scented hair, feeling her silky blonde hair between my fingers, is out of this freaking world. Her slender body fits like a glove to my towering frame. While my feet are firmly planted on the ground and my lanky arms can wrap around her maybe tenfold, she's a little over ten inches shorter than me with the cutest small fingers and ears. I used to tease her about them. She'd always roll her eyes and act all annoyed, but I knew she loved the attention and smiled when she didn't think I was looking. But I always am.

"We should go now. Everyone is probably wondering where we are," she croaks but doesn't move to stand. Her small fingers don't loosen around my shirt, her hands twisted around the fabric, undoubtedly creating nasty creases, but I don't care. She could splatter paint all over my wardrobe and I'd thank her for a mess I could remember her by when she leaves again.

"Fuck 'em. Let's stay in and watch a movie. We can watch one of your stupid non-realistic romance movies," I suggest, and she laughs. Hearing the sound brings a wide smile to my face. I want to hear it more often. I make her cry, more than my heart can handle. In this moment, I promise to make her smile rather than cry her eyes out.

Raising a brow at me, she asks, "You would do that for me? Even though you swore they are the worst films on earth, which was a harsh statement, don't you think?"

"I'd do anything for you," I say, and she blushes. "And, nope, it was and still is the truth. Who wants to spend ninety-minutes of their life, watching a guy and a girl meet out of pure coincidence and have a stupid montage, before whatever job offer pulls them apart, or the guy fucks up by buying her the wrong pair of shoes or whatever, only for them to fall back in love at the end and live happily ever after? No fucking thank you. Give me blood, guts, and actual good movie qualities."

By the end of my rant, she's smiling up at me with a weird look in her eyes. I like that I'm already living up to my promise of making her smile, but I'd like to know how. I rake through what I said, but I just insulted her favorite kind of movie. Am I always a dick? And she always this pretty? Even crying, she is the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on. Blotchy red cheeks, large blue eyes too big for her face coated with tears, her pink lips curled into the softest smile. She looks so much like an angel, I'm afraid I'm tainting her with my darkness, that I move to pull away, but her fingers find their way to mine, keeping me frozen in place for however long she wants.

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