Waste My Time by Kelsey Clayton

It's nearlythree in the morning by the time we walk in the door. One of us doesn't even walk, she stumbles. Being Amelia's best friend, I've seen her drunk a few times, but I don't think she's ever been this wasted. She paced herself pretty well for most of the night, until Knox had the brilliant idea to shit-talk her into a drinking contest. Zayn tried stopping her, but the look she gave him had him holding his hands up and backing away.

“I don't care what you guys say,” she slurs. “I beat Knox Vaughn at shots. I'm a goddamn champion.”

Zayn snorts because he all but threatened Knox into letting her win, but she doesn't need to know that. “You did, baby. I'm proud of you. But let's get you to bed, okay?”

She shakes her head. “I want Kennedy. She gets me.”

“I'm right here, babes,” I assure her.

Squealing, she quickly spins around in Zayn's hold, throwing herself at me with excitement in her eyes. I stumble back but manage to keep us upright. Her face is only inches from mine as she smiles.

“Hi.”

I chuckle. “Hey.”

Her head rests on my shoulder but she stays looking at me. “I love you. You're so pretty.”

“I love you, too.”

“You know, if I was a lesbian, I'd steal you from my dumb brother.”

Easton is clearly annoyed, having listened to her babble the whole way home, but Zayn watches with amusement. As I glance over at him, he smirks and bounces his brows like it's something to consider. If I wasn't holding his girlfriend upright, I'd probably elbow him.

“Okay, honey, but you're not a lesbian,” I tell her.

She juts her bottom lip out. “I'm not?”

“No.”

“Oh,” she says sadly. “Okay.”

I carefully pass her back to Zayn, and he picks her up, bridal style. As he starts to carry her up the stairs, she rests her head against his chest.

“I love her more than you,” she murmurs.

He snickers. “I know.”

Easton goes to help Zayn put her to bed, getting things for her like Advil, a bottle of water, and a trash can to throw up in—because God knows she'll need it. Meanwhile, I head into Easton's bedroom and let the boys handle it. If I go in there, she will want me to cuddle with her, and I've never been able to tell her no.

I take out my dangling earrings one at a time and stand in front of the mirror, just staring at my reflection. I've felt a million different things over the last few hours, let alone the last week, but I think right now I feel the lowest as I take in everything about myself.

“Remind me to punch Knox in the nuts the next time I see him,” Easton says as he comes into the room. When he notices me standing still, he comes up behind me and runs his hands down my sides. “Are you okay?”

“You know, before I started dating you, I loved my blonde hair,” I tell him. “I didn't care about the hours spent in the salon every six weeks, or that when it grew out it didn't look as good. I did it for years without a single complaint.”

“Where is this coming from?”

I shrug. “It wasn't until you started making comments about dark hair looking good on me that I changed it.”

He looks genuinely confused. “Did you not want to change it?”

“I don't know.” I turn around in his hold and look up at him. “Did you really feel that way, or was that just another way to make me look like her?”

Stepping back as if I delivered a blow to the chest, he lets go of me. “What? Of course not.”

“Don't do that,” I argue. “Don't make me feel like I'm crazy. I saw her tonight, Easton. You don't think I realized how much we look alike?”

He shakes his head. “I don't see it.”

“You don't see it?”

“No.”

I reach back and grab the hair tie, yanking it out of my hair. My long brown locks fall around my face as I run my fingers through it to mess it up a bit.

“What about now?”

Easton stares back at me for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a breathy laugh. He walks away and shakes his head, going over to take off his shirt.

“You're just going to ignore me now?” I sass.

He doesn't even turn to face me. “You're looking for an argument. So, for tonight, yeah. I am.”

Not even denying it. I drop my head and wrap my arms around myself as I let it sink in that I'm fighting a losing battle. He's never going to say the things I need for him to calm my fears. He's never going to be able to fix this.

We're completely and irrevocably broken.

Taking a deep breath, he comes toward me and uses his knuckle to lift my chin, making me look him in the eye. The same feeling that pulls me toward him at all times is still there. Still so strong. I swallow hard to maintain my composure.

“All we've done today is fight. So if it's okay, I'd rather we climb into bed and you let me hold you the way I've wanted to all damn night.”

It's a tempting idea, and I almost agree to it, until a realization makes my stomach churn. “You mean with my back to you? So all you see is my dark brown hair?”

He throws his head back and groans, turning to walk away again.

“What?” I say, exasperated. “It's not an outrageous thought. I just want to know if you picture Tessa when you're with me.”

“No!” he snaps, spinning around and getting in my face. “How could I when she never made my blood boil the way you do?” I try to look away but he grips my chin and holds me in place. “Being with her was easy. Carefree and effortless. Being with you is something else entirely.”

“Then leave me if I'm such a damn inconvenience for you,” I hiss. “Why be with me?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

In one swift move, he pushes me against the dresser and covers my mouth with his own. His arm wraps around my back as he pulls me closer. Our tongues tangle together in a heated mix of anger and desperation.

A little voice in the back of my head tells me to push him away. To stop this before it starts. But I can't. I want it and need it, just as much as he does—if not more.

It's like we're clinging to every ounce of the past as we can.

The relationship we had.

The physical connection that still burns between us.

Anything.

“You are so fucking infuriating,” he growls against my lips.

I dig my nails into his shoulders. “Fuck you.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting me up and onto the dresser. “Oh, baby. I'm going to do a hell of a lot more than that.”

Maybe it's because it's been over a week since I last had his hands on my skin. Or the way his touch feels like fire and ice all at once. Regardless of the reason, it's making me feel alive for the first time since I found out about his betrayal, and I’m not willing to walk away.

His mouth moves to my neck. He licks and sucks with just the right amount of pressure while he unzips the back of my dress. Once it's fully undone, he backs away and gently pulls the fabric from my arms, watching as it pools around my waist. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he pulls my bra off and throws it onto the floor.

“You're fucking mouthwatering,” he growls.

Instantly, he's all over my tits. His hand caresses the right one, while his mouth does its magic on the left. I throw my head back and let out a moan that sounds way too desperate but I can't find it in me to care.

Grabbing my waist, Easton picks me up and moves us over to the bed. He tosses me down without a care in the world, and while the darkness in his eyes should scare me, it only seems to turn me on. My dress gets ripped the rest of the way off, along with my panties—leaving me fully on display and wanting on the bed in front of him.

“What about you?” I tease. “I'm naked and you're still half dressed.”

The smirk that appears on his face threatens to make me combust on the spot. “That's because I'm not nearly ready to be inside you yet. Not until you're a quivering mess, begging me for it.”

“If you think I'm going to beg after this past week, let me tell you some—”

He cuts me off by practically diving in between my legs and licking one long stripe up my sex. My head presses harshly back against the pillow as my hands grip the bed sheets as tight as I can.

“My God,” I moan. “Fuck, you're good at that.”

Two fingers slip inside me and immediately press on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, Easton lifts his head and gives me a teasing look.

“You were saying?”

I try to keep an irritated look plastered across my face, but he only sees it as a challenge. He presses harder on my g-spot, and I lose it in an instant. He knows exactly what I want, and he's holding it over my head.

As he starts to move his fingers in and out, he sucks my clit into his mouth. I bite onto my fist to avoid making this room sound like a live-action porno, but it barely makes a difference. This man has one goal right now, and that's to make me scream his name. No part of him will stop until that happens.

I can feel my orgasm building, but I need something more. Something harder. I reach down and lace my fingers into his hair, arching against his face. He must be able to tell I'm close because his fingers start working faster and he hums as he flicks his tongue exactly the way I like it. And when it finally hits, it rips through me with no mercy. Easton moans against me as he laps up everything I'm willing to give him, and fuck. It's hot as hell.

“More,” I tell him as he stops. “I need more.”

He stands beside the bed, eyes locked with mine as he undoes his belt. “Now, now. What did I tell you?”

“Easton,” I breathe.

Shaking his head, he undresses the rest of the way in one move. His cock springs free, rock hard and an angry shade of red as he stands tall—completely unashamed and confident as hell. He takes it into his hand and lightly pumps as he grins at me. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he's loving every fucking second of it.

After grabbing a condom from the nightstand and slipping it on, he kneels on the bed in front of me. For a second, I think he's going to give me what I want, but of course it's never that easy. Not with him.

With his dick still firmly in his hand, he runs it up and down my pussy. It's a tease, and torture, and all I want is for him to slip inside me. I breathe heavily as I try to stay strong, but that's turning out to be more difficult than I thought.

“Say the words, Kennedy,” he orders.

I shake my head and he starts teasing at my hole—pressing in the tiniest bit only to pull it back out again.

“Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

The corner of his mouth raises. “I'd love to, baby. All you have to do is ask.”

No. I can't. It's giving him everything he wants, and after what he did, I don't know that he deserves it. But then...what if he gets it from someone else instead? If I don't give it to him, is he going to get it from another girl? From Tessa?

“Please,” I beg, and even as I say it I’m ashamed of my lack of self-control. “I need you. Please.”

He grins triumphantly and pushes inside in an instant, throwing his head back and letting out a growl as he bottoms out. The feeling of being so full of him, it's everything I didn't realize I need.

This connection.

This moment.

Him and me.

Us.

He bends down and presses his lips to mine as he thrusts into me. His tongue dances with mine, and I can taste myself on him. It's sweet yet a little salty, and it always feels like a claim—knowing the taste of me coats his entire mouth.

“God, baby,” he pants. “You feel so fucking good.”

I drag my nails down his back as he drills into me. Easton is not small by any means, and no matter how many times we're together, I can feel the way I have to stretch around him. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

He moves his mouth to my ear. “Give me what I want, Kennedy. Let me feel that pretty pussy clench around me.”

“It’s my orgasm,” I counter, and yet still, the pressure in my core starts to build.

It's like he has a direct line to climax central. No matter what I do, I can never deny him of anything when we're like this. My body just naturally reacts to him. Does whatever is necessary to please him.

I let out a moan that he quickly swallows down as another high hits and threatens to leave me in ruins. Easton hums contently against my lips with that arrogant smirk already appearing. But I’m loving it too much to care. At least until he moves.

He pulls out and rolls me onto my side, only to get behind me. It's a position we've done a million times, and yet this time feels different, like he's making it so he doesn't have to see my face.

Like he's making it so he can picture it's her.

“Always so good,” he coos as he pushes inside of me from behind. “So fucking good for me.”

I try to push the thoughts from my mind, to convince myself I'm just paranoid and to stay in the moment, but I can't. It's eating me alive from the inside out. But like he said before, all we've done tonight is argue. If I stop him now, if I ruin this, it might be the final straw.

So, instead of pushing him away, both physically and figuratively, I stay still and let him pound into me—tears slipping out and pooling on the pillow as he chases his own high.

I LIE AWAKE EACH night for days, staring at the ceiling. Easton has one arm draped across my stomach as he sleeps soundly beside me. Minutes feel like hours, and my mind will not shut off. It's reeling, playing the events of the last two weeks on a loop, and I can't seem to shake the feeling in my gut.

He's lying.

He's a cheater.

He's in love with her.

The monsters are there, in the dark parts of my mind, convincing me to run. To leave him and never look back. And lately, it's becoming harder to find reasons to stay than it is to go.

A couple weeks ago, the thought of walking away from him was enough to send me into a panic attack. Despite everything he did, I couldn't find it in me to leave. It's like I needed him in order to breathe. But now, as the dust starts to settle, I don't know where we go from here.

I don't know how to get over this.

I don't know if I can.

Accepting the fact that I'm not going to get any sleep, I once again slip out of Easton's hold and climb off the bed. The room is dark, only illuminated by the moonlight, but I manage to spot my bag sitting on the floor next to the dresser. I pull a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt out of it. When I go to pick up my bra, however, I notice Easton's phone lying on the floor. It’s exactly where it landed after he threw it during yet another argument that preceded desperate hate sex.

Like most nights lately.

I pick it up and place it on the dresser before making quick work of getting dressed. As I pull my shirt over my head, my eyes land on it again.

I bet he's still sneaking around.

Go through his phone. You'll see.

No. No, I can't.

Looking over at Easton, I notice he's fast asleep. If I were to have a look, he would never know. And even if he did, if he has nothing to hide, he shouldn't care.

Just take a little peek.

I grab the phone off the dresser and press a button, making it come to life. It only takes a second for me to put in his password. I bite my lip nervously and open his text messages.

Kennedy Lehigh

Zayn Bronsyn

Amelia Donovan

Knox Vaughn

If there were any messages that I wasn't meant to see, especially those with Tessa, they're long gone. I switch over to his recent calls, but there's nothing there either. I should be relieved, but instead, I'm even more worried.

How could there be nothing to find after he just spent months lying to me about where he was at least a couple times a month? Is that even possible?

I swipe through his phone frantically, looking for any type of secret messaging app or hidden pictures. It isn't until I'm about to check his browser history that I stop. My shoulders sag, and I run my fingers through my hair as I go to sit down.

It's like I'm determined to find something even though it isn't there.

“What am I doing?” I murmur to myself.

“I was wondering the same thing.”

Easton's voice breaks through the quiet room and makes me jump. I was so wrapped up in searching through his phone that I didn't realize he had woken up. Reaching over, he flicks on the lamp beside the bed.

“How long have you been awake?”

He sits up, letting the blanket fall and pool on his lap. “Long enough. Did you find what you were looking for?”

I huff. “No, but you knew that already. What did you do, delete it all?”

His head drops, and he lets out a long exhale. “Is this just how it's going to be now? Constant arguing and searching through my phone while I sleep?”

A part of me wants to tell him yes. That I will do whatever makes me feel better. Whatever will help me trust him again. But before it can come out of my mouth, I realize that I'd be lying. Even finding nothing, it didn't make me feel any better, and it sure as hell didn't make me trust him.

The only option I have weighs heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I've never been the kind of girl to question her boyfriend. To sneak around and go through his phone. And I always swore I would never be that girl, and here I am. As much as I love him, I can't change who I am, and this isn't me. Deep down, I've known it was going to come to this for weeks. I simply chose to live in denial, but I can't anymore.

“No,” I answer defeatedly.

He gives me a sad smile and climbs out of bed. “Okay. Good. Let's go get something to drink and then get back in bed. It's late.”

As he pulls on a pair of basketball shorts, I tilt my head back and blink to keep in the tears, refusing to cry.

“No,” I repeat, once I've gained control of my emotions. “It’s not going to be like that because I'm leaving you.”

His whole body tenses before he turns around with utter fear in his eyes. “You can't.”

“I have to,” I say quietly. “This isn't who I am, E. I'm not that girl that stays with a guy she doesn't trust. The girl that goes through her boyfriend’s phone, looking for evidence of something that might not even exist.”

“You did that all on your own!”

“No,” I snap, standing up. “You don’t get to do that, to act like I’m the reason we failed. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s how sure about us I was. So all the bullshit was worth it to me because you were mine. But I didn’t sign up to be lied to. And I have way too much respect for myself to be a doormat. I am not the reason we failed, Easton, because if it were up to me, we would have made it.”

He shakes his head. “Stop talking about us in past tense. We're not in past tense.”

“We are past tense.”

“You told me I could fix it! I thought we were getting better! You stayed!”

The pain in my chest doesn't let up as I feel this breaking us both. I pick up my bag and walk toward him. He watches me like I'm some rabid animal, ready to attack at any given moment and rip him to shreds.

“I stayed because I love you,” I say as I stand in front of him. “And I think a part of me is always going to love you. But right now, I need to love myself more.”

Arching up on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his cheek and let it linger for a moment. As I pull away, it takes everything in me to ignore the pained look on his face.

I open the door and go to leave when he breaks the silence once more.

“Please don't do this,” he begs. Taking a deep breath, he says the words I've been craving. “I love you.”

I've waited so long to hear that from him. Since right after the first Thanksgiving that we spent together. And yet hearing it now, it's tainted.

“You don't love me,” I say honestly. “Not like you love her. You love me because you're scared. Because I'm leaving and there's nothing you can do about it. You don't love me for who I am or how I make you feel. You only love me because you don't want to be alone.”

With that, I hold myself together and head out the door, thankful when he doesn't try to follow. I manage to keep it all in until I make it down the stairs and out into the darkness, but as soon as I reach the sidewalk, I crumble.

Tears pour from my eyes, and my chest feels like it's shattering into a million pieces as sobs wrack through me. Everything from the last week hits me all at once, and it's ripping me apart.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand as I scramble to find the one number I need right now. The only person I can go to with this. The only one who is guaranteed to be on my side and won’t try to convince me to choose differently.

“Hello?” she answers tiredly.

The second I hear her voice, I break all over again. “Tye—”

“Kennedy? What's wrong?”

“I need you.”