Pretty When She Cries - Black Mountain Academy

“Tell me.” He reaches down and drags his long, calloused fingers over the side table, purposely touching my books.

“You can’t always have what you want, Killian. This is real life.”

He cringes at the name, his broad shoulders visibly tensing under his black tee shirt. “Don’t call me that.”

“Everyone else does.”

“You aren’t everyone else.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m just yesterday’s garbage, right? Another casualty in a long line probably.”

Irritation flashes in his eyes, and my inner bitch is beating her chest victoriously. I want him to hurt. I want him to pay equally in humiliation and degradation. And most of all, pain. The pain I feel every time I have to look myself in the mirror.

“Do your lies ever taste bitter on your lips?” He closes in on me, stopping only when the heat of his body penetrates mine.

His hair is wet from a recent shower, and the clean, woody scent of his deodorant lingers between us. Back when I was trying and failing to suppress my obsessive fantasies about him, I used to rifle through his cabinet and touch his things. Aesop deodorant became one of my favorite highs, and admittedly, I’d use every opportunity to smear it onto my skin, imagining what it would feel like when his body moved against mine. Those masculine notes smelled like heaven before I came to hate him with every fiber of my being.

“If you even think about touching me, I will mace your ass.” I flash the canister in my palm, and the edge of his lip twitches. I can’t tell if he’s amused or frustrated. I can never tell with Landon because he’s like a stupid vault. He always felt like one of those nesting dolls. Every time I’d peel open a layer, expecting to find the heart of him, there was only ever another barrier to crack. But somehow, he always seemed to see me. I know when his eyes trail down my arm, he hasn’t missed the tremor there. He probably heard it in my voice too. I’m not as tough as I claim to be, but I’ll die on this hill before I ever admit it.

“So, do it.” He opens his arms, and I catch a glimpse of a deep, jagged scar beneath his elbow. It wasn’t there when I left two years ago. I know because I memorized every line on his body. I’m dying to ask how he got it, and more importantly, if it hurt.

I force my gaze back to his. “Do what?”

“Mace me. Then you can run to the media and tell them all what a big, bad wolf I am. That should make you feel better.”

“Are you kidding me?” I slap a palm against his solid chest and shove him back, forcing some much-needed distance between us. “The only thing that will ever make me feel better is to see you pay for your sins. And you will, Landon. Mark my words. You will wish you never crossed me.”

Heat flashes in his eyes, and it hits me in the gut like a lightning bolt. “Pay for my sins? Didn’t I pay enough already, Kail?”

He takes a step forward, and I move back.

“W-what?” I stumble over the word as he takes another looming step. I’m running out of space to move.

“My only sin was believing for one second that you weren’t another soul-sucking hypocrite just like the rest of them. But you know what? You are so much worse.”

Heat blooms across my skin as his words pelt at my thin armor. The visceral rage I swore I’d hold onto is already evaporating in his presence. His resentment isn’t even rational. Does he really believe he’s innocent in all of this?

He drags a tremulous hand through his hair when he sees the tears clinging to the edges of my eyelids. I’m trying to hold them back. God, I’m trying. But I know it’s too late. If I blink, they will fall.

“I don’t even know who the hell you are,” he says gruffly.

“I’m the monster you created.” I throw my hate-fueled words back in his face. “How could you possibly forget?”

His eyes snap away in disgust, and he shakes his head. “What do you want, Kail? Name your price. Tell me how much it will cost to make you go away for good.”

My mouth falls open, and I’m so stunned by his callous remark that I can’t hide the hurt. The sting of his words is worse than a slap. I thought I could handle this, but I can’t. Not yet. I dig my nails into my palms so I can focus on the pain instead. He has no right to wound me anymore.

“Get. Out.”

He dips his head, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it. “If you stay, I hope you know you’ll be going to war.”