He hates me.

That thought sliced through me, cutting deep and leaving a path of destruction with no way of repairing insight. I should be happy; I started everything, to begin with, but it still cut me. Tears threatened to escape, but my powerful shield could hide the mess within.

It's funny how much I tried ignoring my emotions, yet they always seemed to overwhelm me. Annalise had pointed out whenever I was in a broken state. I masked the pain with my makeup, having it bolder than usual. While on my better day, my eyelids are decorated with natural colors.

How did things end up like this?

I didn't mean to fuck everything up.

Just seeing his face made me angry, and I couldn't seem to tell him what I really felt. Why did I say those things to him at the beach? If I kept my mouth shut, everything would've stayed fine. I wouldn't be on the verge of losing the lid on my emotions.

"If we were really dating, do you think it would've worked out?"

I cringed at my statement.

Of course, there's no way it would work out, dummy.

Annalise had mentioned whenever the things within overgrew their secret place in my chest that they come out in little rants. I guess they didn't want to stay hidden anymore, yet I completely lied about hating him.

I couldn't even if I tried.

Ambrose was right. We were doomed to fail from the beginning because we're polar opposites after all. Our relationship has been fake the entire time. Any form of friendship has evaporated. I shared all these significant things about myself, details only two other people knew about.

I made the biggest mistake of opening myself up to my enemy.

Couldn't blame anyone but myself.

The music blared through speakers, blasting my eardrums as I shuffled in front of them. People said alcohol was a depressant, but it served the opposite for me. Booze was another part of my shield to keep the bubbling Davina from losing her shit in the middle of the dancefloor. From the way my chest ached if I didn't get any drinks in me; crystal tears would release like Niagara Falls.

I aggressively slammed my hand on the bar. "Two shots of vodka please."

The bartender grinned. "No problem, Madame. Just one moment as I finish up this fella's order."

"Hey, Davina!" Ryler's violently painful voice shouted, grabbing my shoulders to swing my body in her direction. "I'm having a little malfunction! One of the chefs quit, and he hadn't finished making the white truffle for guests. I know you have an incredible recipe and I wondered if I could borrow you for a second to help me."

The bartender placed the two shots on the wooden counter, and I hastily threw them back before replying. Ryler and I weren't as close as we claimed on social media. Like my relationship, our friendship was a sham. Once upon a time, our friendship was genuine. We cared about each other and valued one another's feelings until I hit the ballpark in the fame department.

Ryler has a superiority complex. She wanted to be better than everyone, and when I became an A-lister and she stood with her D-list status our relationship spiraled. Our lowest point was when she fucked Colton behind my back and acted like my best friend until he spilled the beans.

Of course, I couldn't open my mouth because of Colton's threats but when it hit the headline that my ex-boyfriend was with my so-called best friend-- shit hit the fan. Ryler concurred this whole plan of our friendship benefitting us more instead of a long feud. But I still couldn't stand being around, acting like she knew Colton when there was an evil side only I saw a glimpse of.

"How much was the Chef's salary?" I asked, spinning around the shot glass.

Ryler narrowed her eyes into murderous slits as she exhaled. "To think you would do something friendly for once after all I resisted throwing myself at your boyfriend."

"Well, that's a first," I muttered.

Ryler scoffed with her arms crossed her chest. "Seventy-five thousand and I'll add in another ten thousand if you get everything done in under an hour."

My lips pursed. "Sounds reasonable... Do I get any help or am I left to fend for myself?"

Ryler frowned, eyeing me warily. "Obviously, I'm not Satan."

"Fine, I'll save your party from being known as a disaster," I responded, stacking the shot glasses on top of each other.

She clapped her like London Tipton loved doing. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I owe you the entire world! And to prove it, I won't even try to make advances on your little boy toy."

Her words never meant anything.

A grimace stood permanently at the mention of Ambrose. "Don't bother, we broke up. You can sleep with him for all I care."

Her eyebrows jerked up with amusement lingering in her eyes. "Really? I might just have to search for him afterward. Dating the hottest chef on the JovaCooking show would skyrocket my following."

"Mmm, everything still business I see," I hummed.

"Of course. Now let's head to the kitchen. Time is ticking away!" Ryler yelled, shoving everyone in our path as she rounded the corner to the back of the venue.

For being a five-foot girl, she had the strength of a professional wrestler with the way she thrust everyone to the ground. Fewer people lingered around the closer we reached the kitchen double doors; bright fluorescent lights shone above the countertops giving the kitchen a raggy feeling compared to the scenery outside.

Half-made truffle mixture sat on the wooden tops with a chef hat and apron laying on the floor. It appeared as one of the baked truffle trays had burned, leaving black charcoal in its place. He must've reached his breaking point and shouted at his crew before quitting. I wondered if he would be able to support his family without completing this job.

"Don't eat the burnt truffles, they literally taste like ash." Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Anyhow, now that you're all set, I should be heading back out to my guests while you work your pesto magic."

I snapped my fingers before she made it out the door. "Where's my staff? You promised someone would be helping me."

"Chill out, I'm going to go get them," Ryler shouted, before exiting out the door with a slam.

Faint music helped the kitchen from being in silence which I really appreciated. After throwing the unedible truffles, picking up the uniforms, and throwing away the unfinished batter, I began measuring the ingredients for my batch. Using a wired whisk, I slowly stirred the white chocolate into warm cream before adding liqueur and vanilla.

To quicken the process, I flashed froze the batter in hopes everything would get done before Ryler crawled her annoying self back here. Knowing her, she would get distracted with her guest and gossip for hours before coming back here.

Suddenly, goosebumps emerged on my skin when the power shut off. Strangely, the electricity at the party went strong, the DJ blaring the top hits on the radio. I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress as I inhaled a long breath, hoping the anxiety fluttering inside my heart would die down.

Don't think about the closet. Don't think about the closet. Don't think about the closet.

Once gaining composure, I felt around as I wandered over to the door, only to bang my forehead against it. With a harsh groan, I shifted my body weight to nudge the door to find it not budging at all. Growing impatient, I used a strong force yet the door stood straight, causing the anxiety to begin rumbling like a volcano.

Just breathe.

Focus on your breathing and everything would be fine.

Taking slow steps backward, I stopped once I bumped into a countertop and dropped my hands on it. Prickly hairs grazed against my skin like whenever I touched my leg when I had forgotten to shave. My gaze flitted down to my hands and lost all the air in my lungs.

Lobster head.

How the hell did that get here?

I blinked, gripping the counter, my knees weak as my heart rate accelerated. With a shaky breath, I stepped back, bumping into the other counter, afraid to glance down. My breathing grew ragged as I slowly craned my head back to see dozens of lobster heads. Pain infiltrated every fiber of my being as I replayed the night when I was five.

I hated crying! But at this point, I was hyperventilating and didn't have enough strength to hold back the Mississippi River in my eyes. Loud whimpers departed from my lips like they did that night twenty years ago. I didn't have any energy to slam the door open, but the longer I stayed in here, the more suffocated I felt.

Wiping my running nose, I closed my eyes and angled my elbow in a way to push an enormous amount of weight. But nothing. The door didn't even move a centimeter, but I couldn't surrender. My inner demons might've won that night long ago, but they wouldn't tonight.

I kicked the door several times; My tears and boogers were running down my chin at the point, but I couldn't think of anything else but getting out of here. Ten kicks later and no process was made. Banging my head on the door, I was on the verge of giving up and submitting to my inner demons.

I deserved it.

I was such a fucking bitch.

Suddenly, an arm snaked around my waist while their other hand covered my mouth, causing my eyes to bulge open. A type of crispness ran down my spine and goosebumps surfaced on my skin again. This scent brought familiarity. It wasn't as down to earth to Ambrose's strawberry aura or Milo's expensive Dior; it was something else.

The arm from my waist transferred over to the hair falling over my face. Mysterious scent fingers swipe a strand of locks behind my ear, their heavy breath causing a fearful sensation to bubble in my stomach.

"It's been too long since I've seen you, D." His raspy, nauseating voice stated, placing a small kiss on my bare shoulder.

Everything made sense. From the random blackout. To the terrifying lobster heads. The raspy voice was all too recognizable. Finally, the familiar scent of cigarettes.

It was Colton.

His fingers traveled down my arm, sending a revolting response to my gut. It's funny to remember the odd days when his touch used to soothe me. Now, it made my body feel disgusted with allowing his filthy hands to grope me.

But I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. As if my voice stayed lodged in my throat after having a long coughing fit when it hurt to speak again.

"You look so fucking sexy in this dress. I want to tear it off you." His awful pecks formed a straight line from both shoulders. "Nights like this make me regret ever letting you go, but then I remember how easy it is to get you back."

"W-what are you doing here?" My voice was hoarse and small.

He swung my body around in an effort to make me glance at him, but I couldn't. If I didn't see him, maybe I could pretend none of this was happening.

"Don't act surprised. You came here knowing you wanted to see me or you wouldn't have worn this outfit. It's driving me fucking crazy!" Colton yanked my hand, nearly breaking my wrist from resisting his path until he forced my fingers to graze his hard-on. "Do you know how hurtful it is to see your arms around another man?"

Silence.

Anxiety dripped at my skin, and I couldn't break through, no matter how hard I tried. "N-no."

"You have lowered your standards since being with me," he scoffed.

"Jokes on you. My standards have been low ever since I met you," I sneered, swallowing the anxiety trying to overthrow me.

He gripped my chin, jerking it upwards to meet his eye. Those awful silver-greys irises glimmering with entertaining. "What the fuck did you say? D, don't do anything crazy. Make life easier and forget about Ambrose, alright? I came to have a fun night with you and to cement into your brain how useless you're. "

With a clenched jaw, I responded, "Fuck you. You don't deserve to say his name, you aren't worthy of breathing the same air with someone like him."

His gripped tightened, causing whimpers to sneak through. "You never take the easy route, do you?" Colton bent forward, placing open mouth kisses from my neck all the way to my jaw. Bile rose in my throat. "Do you think Ambrose would still care about after finding out the truth? About what you did to your sister? He's going to leave you like everyone else does. You only have me. I'm the only one who comes back."

Mentioning my sister added fuel to the fire. It set off the volcano bubbling in my stomach, and I suddenly gained the strength to fight him back.

Kneeing him in the crotch, I snapped, "You're a piece of shit. Don't mention Kasey, keep her beautiful soul out of your mouth. Stop embarrassing yourself and leave because you aren't getting anything from me."

Hysterical laughter pulsated in his throat. "I love it when you make it a challenge, D."

With fiery eyes, I moved away from his limping body to only get caught in his leg and slam to the ground. That was all Colton needed to get the upper hand. He hoisted onto his two legs and draped his arms over the countertops. In the blink of an eye, I was covered in lobster heads, and a frightened little girl was coming out.

"Did you like my surprise?" He taunted, holding a head right by his. "Every time I remember this story, I can't help but laugh. You're weak. Crying over some dead heads." Colton flung a head in my face, causing my arms to flail around as if I was drowning.

Which, technically. I was.

Kicking all my limbs around like a bouncing cricket, I kept sliding until my head thumped against the drawer. Aching sensation formed in my head, probably leaving a bump the size of Jupiter.

Colton's gaze narrowed, sinister, lingering in those awful blue eyes. My eyes widened in horror when he brought another lobster close to my face while he tightly clung to my hair to keep me from moving.

"I don't know why you got so mad when I mentioned Mikayla... It isn't like I drove the car... You did? Are you sure you want all of this to come to light?" He smeared the slimy head against my chin. "For people to know how the innocent girl next door caused her dearly teenage sister confined to a wheelchair?"

Tears sprung from my eyes. Fragments of the night flashed through my mind. There wasn't a day where the guilt didn't come through. Annalise said I couldn't think like that. I couldn't blame myself for something out of my hands. But Colton made sure to rub salt on the wound, the constant reminder of how I didn't deserve anything.

"I didn't d-do it." My voice faltered.

Colton laughed darkly. "Who told you that? Your therapist? Her job is to make you feel better about yourself, not tell you the truth. The truth is, you drove that car." Colton tapped the lobster on my forehead, chin, cheek. "You crashed the car. You hurt her because your jealousy over our friendship blinded you."

That didn't match my memories.

My head shook. "T-that's not true."

I held my breath when he abandoned the head in the group surrounding us. His hands possessively went around my neck, forcing my face closer to his. This time I fought; I scratched, pinched, and kicked, but it was as if I did zero damage.

"Come on, D. I'm craving your lips," he growled.

"Let go! Get your hands off of me. Le-."

My eyes sting with unshed tears as I could feel myself losing this battle too.

"D!" His earthy honey-like sweet voice.

My head snapped back at the sound of his yelling.

Lights flickered on after a swing of his finger. Before I could comprehend, Ambrose had tackled Colton off of me, dropping his frame harshly on Colton's. A tortured roar clawed from Ambrose's chest as he landed a jab on Colton's face.

Colton clutched his cheek and spat out the blood coming from the punch. His eyes remained on the floor, probably feeling defeated in a match. He always hated losing, even when we played Hoops and Ladders. He threw a fit if he failed.

"You're a piece of shit for torturing her like this," he gritted through heavy breaths and swung around, going flying in my direction.

My heart was beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs when our gaze connected. I thought he hated me. But a look of his disheveled hair and ragged breath proved he hadn't completely loathed me.

"Let's go home," Ambrose stated.

The organ in my chest skipped a dozen beats when Ambrose swept me up into a full bridal carry. Without much of a choice, I closed my arms around his neck and sank against him, trying to make sure I'd survive if he accidentally dropped me. His hands were warm around my back and knee, forearms tight and strong.

He smelled amazing.

He felt even better.

He's an idiot.

Always, always, always such an...

The worrisome little flurry in my belly went wild, flying in a dozen directions and careening into important inside parts. All from his touch, his kind nature, his inability to throw in the towel even when we fight. How did I become so lucky to bump into him?

No, no, I'm the idiot. All this time I've been too afraid to admit it, but it's about time I had...

The fact that I care about Ambrose...

The fact that I really liked him...

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