“This is the kind of music you should be dancing to. Not that shit you were listening to before.”

She briefly recovered and gave me a reprimanding look, her brow creasing. “Swear ja-”

“Stop talking, Stelle,” I ordered, taking her in my arms.

Estella’s body fitted against mine like we were two pieces of the same puzzle. She was breathing heavily against me, and I could feel how fast her pulse was. Or maybe that was my pulse; it was hard to tell where she began and where I ended.

My eyes were locked onto her, rooting her to one spot. Even if she had wanted to run away, she couldn’t. Our eyes were fusing us together; our bodies were betraying the distance that we’d always kept between us.

Being with Estella felt right. It felt like home.

As the music got to the chorus, I started to sway to it. Okay, so I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I’d never danced in my life. I probably looked like a goddamn idiot, but I was doing this to show her something. I couldn’t figure out exactly what that ‘something’ was, but she needed to know.

Estella’s brow had relaxed, and the surprise that’d filled her face before was gone. Now she just looked confused. Her lips were parted and I wanted so badly to kiss that mouth of hers. Those lips were begging to be kissed.

And, fuck, I wanted her so much. I was hard against her, and I knew that she could tell because she started to move away, but I held onto her. I wanted her to stay.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” I whispered, and I didn’t really know what I meant by it, but her eyes widened at my words.

Then I bowed my head towards her because I had to have a taste of her mouth. Nothing else existed but her. I had to know what it was like to have her.

“Vincent.” The voice was cold; it was so cold that it felt like my body had been submerged in ice cold water.

I jerked away from Estella and looked over towards the doorway to find Ryder standing at the entrance of the kitchen. There was a look of disgust on his face as he stared at me and Estella like we were pieces of shit.

“I need to talk to you. Now.” He wasn’t fucking around. I was in serious shit.

Without another look at Estella, I stalked after him out onto the porch. He stood straight against the wooden railing that wrapped around the porch, and even though I was taller than him, I suddenly felt a hell of a lot smaller from the way he looked at me.

He didn’t wait for me to prepare myself; he just started ripping into me like an animal in mid-attack. “What the fuck is going on with you, Vincent?” His voice was low, but each word sounded dangerous coming out of his mouth. “What the fuck are you doing with that girl? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He might as well have punched me in the gut, that’s how winded I felt in the aftermath of his words. There was a buzzing in my brain; I had absolutely no response to his questions. My mouth felt dry, and when I swallowed, my throat was sore.

When I didn’t say anything, he let out a snarl and punched the wooden post behind him. “Dammit, Vincent! You’re the one I rely on! You’re the one I can count on to think like I do. But I don’t know what the fuck happened to you. First, I have Tyson acting like a complete pussy when Ruby shows up, and now this girl has a hold on your fucking balls. What the fuck is going on with you? Tell me.”

This time I knew I had to give him an answer. He wasn’t going to take silence from me, and I didn’t want to make him wait. “There’s nothing up with me,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He stepped forward, and for a minute I wasn’t his brother anymore; I was a threat. I was someone he didn’t trust. “You were dancing with that girl. Dancing! Fuck, Vincent! How many times have I told you that women are for fucking, that’s it. They’re not for you to love or take of, or to dance with. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; he just kept going. “Women are manipulative and they fuck up our lives. And, that girl, do you really think she’ll ever be with a guy like you? She looks down on people like us, Vin. She judges us; fucking good girl with her perfect life. She’ll never see you as anything but a failure.”

As Ryder said each word, I realized he was right. Estella was a fucking saint; she didn’t fit in with us, no matter how well she’d gotten along with the boys today. It’d probably been an act, anyway. She’d probably been too scared to do anything else.

I knew she’d gotten pissed at me when I’d accused her of having a perfect life, but there was no way her life could be worse than ours. What was the worst thing that’d happened to her? Probably nothing. Nothing that even came close to the life that we had.

I’d been so stupid. I’d been weak. I’d let her get to me. I’d let her smile, and her laughter, and those eyes get to me. I’d deluded myself into thinking that she belonged to me when, really, we didn’t know a fucking thing about each other.

“She makes you weak,” Ryder said, as if he’d glimpsed my thoughts. “And you’re not a weak person; I’ve taught you to get rid of weaknesses, but this girl, she, gets under your skin. I saw the way you looked at her. You ain’t ever looked at a girl like that before. She got to you, but you can’t let her. You can’t let a girl be your weakness, Vin. You’re a fighter; you’re not weak like Ruby.”

He was right. Everything he said was the truth. Estella was my weakness; I’d let her get under my skin. Somehow, she’d crept inside my brain, but I had to get rid of the effect she had on me.

I had to forget every single moment that had passed between us. I had to forget those whiskey eyes.

Chapter Seventeen

Estella

When Vincent pulled up outside my house later that night, my head felt like it was going through a blender.

So much had happened between us in the span of a few hours that I didn’t know what to think or how to act around him. First, he’d danced with me. Then he’d said that he’d go wherever I would go, although he could’ve just been quoting the lyrics of the song we’d danced to. And, finally, I swear he’d been about to kiss me before Ryder interrupted us.

At least that’s what it had seemed like. Maybe I had wanted so desperately for him to kiss me that I’d imagined the entire thing, because as soon as he’d gone outside with Ryder and come back in a few minutes later, he’d started acting strange.

All of a sudden, he’d become cold and distant, like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me. And as much as I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter how he acted around me—that I was only there for Dylan—it was a complete lie. I did care how Vincent treated me.

The truth was, I was attracted to him. I’d been attracted to him the first night I’d met him. His tattoos, which should’ve been a turn-off for me, barely registered on my radar anymore. I’d noticed them too late. I’d already been drawn in by his eyes, his smile, and by the confidence that radiated off him.

I wasn’t a stupid girl. I wasn’t foolish or naïve. I had experienced things that had changed me forever. I knew that there were many things wrong with Vincent. I knew he wasn’t the safe, stable, boring guy I had imagined spending my life with. I knew all this, yet I still found it difficult to shake him from my mind.

The problem was I hadn’t fallen for Vincent straight away, like a silly, ridiculous girl. I hadn’t giggled over him and talked about him to my friends and discussed how sexy he was. No, whatever was happening between Vincent and I had taken weeks; it had taken time to build between us. It was something built on familiarity and routine.

Just from weeks of watching him, I had started to figure him out. I knew he was reckless and that he had a temper, but I also knew that beneath all that was someone who was just as broken as I was.

Somehow, in this large world, gravity had pulled us together in all our brokenness, with all our issues. Maybe it meant nothing at all, but a part of me knew that it meant something, and I was in serious denial if I tried to convince myself that Vincent meant nothing at all to me.

So as I climbed off his bike and removed the helmet, I was determined to break down this cold wall that Vincent had suddenly put up between us.

Nervousness was slowly filling me up, but I just went with it because I wasn’t going to let it get the better of me. “It really meant a lot to Dylan that you didn’t leave this afternoon.”

Vincent was still wearing his helmet, and for a second I wondered if he’d heard me not. The silence stretched between us, and I gripped the helmet in my hands, refusing to hand it over. It was my bargaining chip to stop him from riding off.

Then Vincent took his helmet off and fixed me with a glare that made me feel like he had kicked me in the stomach. “I don’t need you to tell me what my brother thinks. He can speak for himself.”

Despite the harshness of what he’d said, I somehow managed to form words. Mainly because I knew that Vincent was doing this as a defense mechanism. We’d just had an amazing afternoon together. I had done nothing wrong and his anger was unjustified.

“I know he can speak for himself.” I paused, trying to find the right words to say. “I just think it was sweet of you to stick around and dance.” My tone became teasing and I was kind of hoping to see a smile on his face.

Even in the darkness, I could see Vincent’s eyes harden and his mouth tighten. “I don’t care what you think. I don’t care what you say. You mean nothing to me. Nothing.”

His words sent a shock through my entire system, and I gasped at the way each word cut into me. The look in his eyes was enough to make my blood run cold, but it was the fact that he’d said I meant nothing to him that affected me the most.

It was impossible to believe that in just an hour, Vincent had completely transformed from the man who had swept me off my feet into someone who didn’t want me in their life. The way his eyes had fixed onto me in his kitchen, as though I was his only desire in this world, seemed to be a faraway dream. Had I imagined the entire thing? Was I losing my mind?

“Y-you don’t mean that.” I hated how weak my voice sounded, but I had to make sure. There had to be a part of Vincent that cared about me. I didn’t know why it was so important to me that this boy feel something for me, but as stupid as it was, a part of me needed to hear that he did care.

For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in Vincent’s eyes, but maybe I imagined that too, because a second later, his eyes were hard again. “Desperation doesn’t suit you,” he said, his lips twisting cruelly.

A gasp wracked through me, and I dropped the helmet onto the ground and stumbled backwards, my mind a mess of emotions. I hated myself for feeling like this; I didn’t want to be affected by Vincent. I had tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about him, but obviously I’d lied to myself.

But I couldn’t let that show. I couldn’t let him see that he had gotten to me. I had to be as cold as he was.

“The only desperate one is you. Otherwise you wouldn’t let those sluts into your bed.” My voice was flat, clear of all emotion, and I was proud that I could be as uncaring and ruthless as he was.

Before my façade slipped and I broke down, I turned and headed towards my house, misery descending upon me like a cloud.

There were feelings inside me for Vincent—I wasn’t sure exactly what those feelings were—yet he felt nothing for me. The reality of that was like a knife slicing through my chest, and I stumbled blindly up the steps to my front door.

I didn’t look back. I refused to give Vincent the satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten to me. I refused to give Vincent anything.

He would not break me. He could not break me. I was beyond broken—I was dead.

* * *

I was really surprised when I got a call from Dylan on Thursday afternoon.

“Estella?” he asked, sounding uncertain when I answered the phone.

“Yes? Dylan?” He had never called me before, so I began to worry that something bad had happened. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he assured me quickly, then paused. “Um, Vincent told me to tell you that he can’t pick you up on Friday, so I’m just supposed to meet you at the library to study there.”

I barely flinched as Dylan’s words sunk in. It was obvious that this was just an excuse for Vincent to put distance between us. A part of me had been prepared for this after our fight on Tuesday night.