CHAPTER 34
“Alright then, she’s yours. Have at it.”
**CLARK**
"Really?"
I raise an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by his reaction. I was aiming to push his buttons, hoping to unearth any hidden layers behind his bitter exterior. His nonchalant response, however, wasn’t what I expected. I had hoped to see a flicker of deeper emotion, something that might reveal more about his true feelings. The casualness of his reply only made me more curious about what he was hiding.
I first encountered him when I was fourteen, shortly after Winter had left. At that time, he was grappling with the loss of his father and harbored a deep resentment towards Winter. He blamed her for his parents' separation, which he believed ultimately contributed to his father's death.
Yet, I've always suspected that his intense hatred masks something more complex. Over the years, his relentless vitriol toward her never quite added up. The more he ranted, the more it seemed like there was something deeper beneath the surface.
The night I met Winter at the party only confirmed my suspicions. She didn’t seem like the evil figure he painted her to be. She came across as quite the opposite. Observing her, I couldn’t reconcile her demeanour with the monster he described. It made me wonder if his hatred was fueled by more than just the events he claimed. Perhaps, underneath it all, there was a mix of unresolved emotions and conflicted feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, even to himself.
“So, if I ended up hooking up with her, you wouldn’t have a problem with that?” I ask, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Seriously, you’d be fine with that?”
**ZION**
I clench my teeth, my fists tightening as I fight the urge to hit him.
“Whatever,” I manage to force out, making Clark’s grin widen.
Damn, traitor.
“I’m heading home to shower. Want to join me later? Carl’s throwing a party, and I could use a distraction, maybe some weed and a hookup,” I say as we walk out of the gym together.
“Sure, just swing by my place when you’re done,” Clark says, and we split ways in the parking lot. I slide into my car and start the engine, feeling the vibrations beneath me. Normally, a gym session leaves me drained but relaxed, a temporary escape from the chaos of my life. Today, however, the usual relief is replaced by an edge of tension, courtesy of the woman living down the hall.
The drive home is swift, but instead of unwinding, I find myself more on edge than when I arrived at the gym.
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turn white with tension. Clark’s casual remark about Winter echoes in my mind—his offhand comment about her being “hot” and his willingness to “take over” for me. The thought of him even suggesting he’d get involved with her, toying with her as if she were just another conquest, sends a fresh wave of rage coursing through me.
I pull the car into the driveway and cut the engine, letting out a long, steady breath. The weight of the day presses down on me as I open the door and step out onto the pavement. I slam the door shut with a sharp thud and reach into the back seat to grab my gym bag. The bag feels heavy in my hand, a reminder of the intense workout that did little to soothe my simmering anger. I sling the strap over my shoulder and start toward the house.
With my original plan being to head straight to my room for a shower, I find myself unexpectedly stopping just as I reach her door.
There's something about her that pulls at me, an irresistible urge to confront her again. I want to see her cower under my threats, to feel her fear—my mind is clouded with the need for control. It’s a dark impulse, and though
I know it’s irrational, I can’t push it away. I’m lost in a storm of emotions, far beyond rational thought, as I stand there, grappling with my twisted desires.
Yet, beneath the anger and the thirst for power, there’s a hollow ache that gnaws at me. I can't ignore the pang of sadness that settles deep within my chest. It’s a cruel irony—if she hadn’t lied, if she hadn’t betrayed me, we could have still been friends.
We could have been close, sharing moments that now feel like a distant dream. Instead, her deceit has left a gaping wound, and the person I once cared about is now the one I want to break. The sadness mingles with my anger, creating a tangled mess of conflicting emotions that leaves me feeling lost and conflicted.
As soon as I walk through the front door, an almost irresistible urge pulls me toward her bedroom. I move swiftly, each step driven by the need to confront her again. Reaching her door, I pause and press my ear against it, straining to catch any sounds from inside. Hearing nothing, I turn the doorknob, only to find it locked—a clear sign she's inside. Annoyed, I knock sharply, knowing she must be in there, likely huddling away, plotting her next deceit.
I knock again, growing increasingly impatient. She must be in the bathroom, maybe taking a bath, or perhaps she's just sleeping.
The thought of her naked body behind that door stirs an unwelcome reaction in my gym shorts. I nearly give up and leave, but then I remember the wire key we have to unlock doors from the other side.
I head down the hall to the guest bathroom, my hand brushing the doorframe until I find the key. With it in hand, I return to her door and unlock it, a smirk forming on my lips.
Didn’t she get the message this afternoon?
She can’t keep me out!
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