Bitter

He steps back and smiles at me. “For the record, I still think you’re an amazing host.”

I smirk back. “You can wait inside for a car.”

He grins. “That’s okay. It’s nice out here.”

I nod. “Goodnight, Andy.”

“Night,” he responds.

I pause before I walk back inside. I’m so fucking pissed at Reed. He better not be standing inside waiting for me.

I push the door open, and he whips back around to look at me. He was just standing in the middle of the living room waiting for me. “Where is he?” he asks.

I roll my eyes as I pass by him on my way to the kitchen. I grab my wine bottle and pour another glass. “He’s waiting for a car to pick him up.”

“Good.”

I set the bottle down a little too roughly. “No, Reed! That’s not a good thing! What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shout.

I grab my glass and chug it back as I walk into my room. He doesn’t take the hint and follows me in. “You would have regretted it if he stayed.”

“Not as much as you would have regretted sleeping with that slut,” I snap back.

His face turns angry. “Why are you acting like this, Wren? This isn’t you. You don’t put other women down.”

I plop down on my bed and lean back on my hand. “What is it that attracted you to her? Was it the enormous tits or was it solely the long blonde hair that did it for you?”

He steps closer to me. “Watch yourself.”

I smirk and then finish off the rest of my wine. I stand and set the glass on my dresser. I shrug my shoulders. “I’m curious is all. Or was it the complete lack of personality that did it for you? Kind of like fucking a sex doll.”

He leans against the wall across from me. “Careful, Wren, you’re sounding awfully close to bitter.”

I grin ear to ear. I take a few steps toward him. “Yeah, you know? I think that’s exactly what I am. And you know what, Reed? The thing about being bitter is you don’t give a fuck if other people think you’re bitter because fuck them too!”

I take another few steps until I’m up in his face. “We don’t care what other people think because there’s no point in trying to please other people when we know they are just going to fuck us over in the end too.”

I run my hand up his chest. “Isn’t that right?”

He grabs my hand off his chest and places it in his. “You’re grieving,” he says softly.

This only makes me angrier. I step back from him. “Fuck that! I’m not grieving anything!”

His eyes soften even more toward me. “You’re not thinking straight.”

I laugh bitterly. “Listen to me, Reed. I don’t give a fuck about that man. In fact, I’m glad he’s dead.”

Reed’s breathing picks up. “You don’t mean that,” he says angrily.

I take a step toward him and then another as I wobble slightly to the side from all the alcohol. “Yeah. I do,” I whisper when I am right in front of him again.

I lean my body forward and place my hand on his chest again. I run my fingers up to his shoulder. Then I reach up around his neck and into his hair. I stand on my tip toes and whisper in his ear, “He doesn’t mean anything to me.”

My heart is pounding in my chest. Reed’s body goes rigid, but he hasn’t responded. I pull back ever so slowly. My face only inches away from his. I stare down at his mouth, and then without thinking about it further, I lean forward and press my lips against his.

His whole body tenses, and he freezes in place. I lean forward more, and that’s when he must come to his senses. He grabs both of my arms and shoves me back hard. His eyes are furious. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I lean forward again and run my lips up his neck to his jaw. “Grieving,” I whisper.

He pushes me back again. “You can’t fucking touch me like that.”

I roll my eyes and turn around. “Whatever you say, Reed. You can leave now.”

I turn and face him again, but he makes no move to leave. His chest moves up and down rapidly with each breath. His eyes frantically move back and forth over my face, but he doesn’t move from the spot he stands.

I shrug. “Fine. If you aren’t going to leave, then I will.”

I start walking toward the door, but before I make it all the way, he grabs my arm and whips me back around. “Fucking bitch,” he breathes out before slamming me against the wall while his lips crash to mine.

I try to touch him, but he grabs my arms and pins them above my head. He presses his body up against mine, and I can feel how he wants this just as much as I do. I moan when he slips his tongue into my mouth, but then he abruptly pulls back.

His chest heaves, and his eyes are even angrier than before. “No! Fuck!” he shouts. “This is so wrong!”

He still hasn't made a move to leave, so I know he doesn’t want to. I have no problem being the bad guy here, so I’m fine with him letting me convince him otherwise. I walk over to the bed and lean back on my hands.

“Maybe you’re right, Reed. Maybe I am grieving.” I pause. “So let me grieve. We both know you’re not. You hated him.”

Reed’s hands ball into fists at his side. I sit up straighter on the bed. “Show him, Reed. Show him how much you hated him. Show him how you feel after he screwed you over so many times.” I pause and smirk at him. “Fuck me on his bed.”

He doesn’t move. It’s like he’s frozen in place, but his eyes are burning right through me. His face completely hardens. He finally takes a step toward me and then another one. Each step makes my heart flip in my chest. My breathing quickens, and I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat.