The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet 1)

“Yo, man, party’s over.” A tipsy boy waved my way, his arm slung over some brunette as they made their way down the garden path. For a house party, the place was well tended with manicured bushes and lush grass.

I didn’t know why that bothered me. Why this place was ten times nicer than the apartment Della and I shared or that whoever had accepted her invitation to sleep with her might come from much better stock than me.

He might have money, manners, and mansions.

And what did I have?

Fucking nothing because Della had deliberately torn out my heart and ensured nothing would ever be right again.

Swinging my leg over the bike, I ignored the leaving couple and marched up to the front door. Pushing it open, I entered the cream foyer and narrowed my eyes at the reek of booze and weed.

Only a few lights were on, scattered like islands in the darkness as I made my way through the living room to the kitchen to the den.

No signs of a blonde girl in a black dress.

With sick despair, I followed more rooms, past making out students and giggling girls until I stumbled upon the one thing I couldn’t live without.

Curled up in another man’s arms, her cheeks pink as he murmured something in her ear.

His hand on her thigh. His lips on her throat.

It was more than I could fucking bear.

Della ran a fingertip along the rim of a champagne glass looking every inch an adult. There was nothing girlish about her with her sex-tussled hair, tight dress, and jaded look in her stunning blue eyes.

I stumbled at the sight as the man grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her lap, stroking her softly. She smiled in thanks, tucking it behind her, hiding the long expanse of beautiful legs, sneaking away the ribbon tattoo complete with its R.

I thought I couldn’t stand seeing him touch her before. But it was nothing compared to the shredding, slashing sorrow now.

“Della,” I breathed, marching as steadily as I could toward them.

She froze. Her eyes round and shooting to mine. “Ren…what—what are you doing here?”

My hands curled as the man looked me up and down, studying me, judging me, waging war with just one glance.

Tearing my eyes from my enemy, I said, “I came to take you home.”

She sipped her half-full champagne. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

Anger sneaked over my pain, granting me safe haven from my misery. I latched onto it, desperate to feel anything but the grief I had no right to feel. “Don’t argue with me.”

“Don’t command me then.”

“I’m not commanding you.”

“Yes, you are.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m a big girl, Ren. Run along back to Rachel989.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“You heard me.” She slugged back the rest of the drink in one mouthful.

“I can take her home. Don’t worry about her,” the man dared to say.

I didn’t look at him, keeping my eyes fixed on Della as I tried and failed not to see the change in her. The new knowledge in her gaze. I’d hoped…

Fuck, I’d hoped it was a lie.

That she’d said something so hurtful on the phone just to punish me, but now, I knew.

She was telling the truth, and she’d fucked the guy currently holding her close like I wanted to do.

And shit…that fucking hurt.

“Della. Now.” I growled, quickly losing my temper. I’d never beaten someone up before, but if I didn’t get her out of his grip soon, I would.

Shoving off the blanket, Della swooped upright. Fire blazed in her eyes as she stalked in bare feet and stabbed me hard in the chest with her finger. “You don’t get to boss me around any longer. I’m almost eighteen, Ren. You don’t get to baby me anymore.”

Grabbing her wrist, I jerked her through the space and toward the front door. “You and I need to talk.”

“Hey!” She struggled. “Let me go.” Her fingernails scratched my skin, but I didn’t release her.

The front door beckoned, night sky and streets to get lost in before we had a conversation that would probably end us forever.

“Oi!” A hand landed squarely between my shoulder blades, shoving me forward.

Stumbling, I instinctually let go of Della so I didn’t make her trip with me then spun to face who’d dared touch me.

The man.

“David, don’t!” Della called, tripping to get between us.

But it was too late.

All the pain and regret manifested in my fists, and I swung without thinking.

David ducked, his blond head narrowly missing being hit.

He rammed his shoulder into my chest, sending us both slamming to the ground.

“Stop! Both of you!” Della screamed.

We didn’t listen.

I kneed him in the ribs, sending him rolling to the side. He shot to his feet, trying to punch me again.

I punched him first.

I wanted to kill him.