“If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.” — Heathcliff Earnshaw.
I didn’t know what hurt me more — Roulette calling me a man whore or the fact that Jenna left someone like him for me. In a nutshell, I felt like shit. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, refusing to even look at me. His eyes held pain and refusal and anger and refute. He hated me and now I knew why.
“All he wanted was a side dish of pussy to keep himself going under the stress that his English major put him through. And you left me for him? And now you were practically fucking in my house?” I heard my heart break after hearing his voice falter, shaking and trembling with grief. I shut my eyes painfully, and I let his words strike me dead. I was under pain, a lot of it, but I didn’t know how to show it. So much for the big, tough guy, huh?
“How could you have fallen so far? And yet, few weeks before you dumped me, all I had to hear you lust after a guy I knew wasn’t even worth it?” My head was buried in my hands, while my heart was erratically beating away. I could hear his words dig into a tapestry of pain that was unknown to me till now. I knew I'd break down if I glanced at him, which is why I didn’t.
Hearing him berate me in such a ghoulish fashion was beyond hurtful and I couldn’t remember the last time I cared about what someone had to say. Questions swarmed in my head, and my heart ached to even look at the disdain he had for me etched on his face. He threw me one last bewildered glance, before striding away. I gingerly stepped down from the bed, straightening out my then wrinkled shirt.
“Tobias, I'm sorry. I didn’t…” I had my back facing her and I heard her quietly sob when I hung my head, shuffling my feet. What should have said? What was there to say anyways? My head was spinning and I felt sick to the stomach. I was done here.
“Save it, Jen.” My voice was dwindling on the edge of cracking, and I decided that leaving the party was a better option than showing emotions in front of anyone else. Niall would be at home, and my solace would lay in there. I gave my shirt one last hitch, before bolting out of the door. By the outside view, I could say that people had no idea what just happened inside the private cabin. Good. The last thing I wanted was to get exposed.
Angry and utterly sorry for myself, I shouldered past the throngs of people more forcefully than I should've, before taking the phone out of my pocket and calling Niall. I badly needed to cry and I badly needed someone I could rely on. As the disciplined person he was, he picked my call up in no time.
“Hey, Toby! How's it going?” The enthusiasm in his voice literally hurt me to expose the fact that I was miserable and I was always the one he had to fetch in order to rescue. Hell, maybe I wasn’t even a good friend.
“All I can tell you at the moment is that I just got called a male prostitute by the host of this could've been amazing party.” My own voice seemed foreign to me, because the tone came out blank and emotionless.
“What the fuck? I'm coming to get you. Stay where you are and don't get drunk.” A nod was my response before cutting the call, bit then I realized that there was no way he could’ve seen my agreement to his statement. I was truly pathetic.
I couldn’t stand being here in this party for one more second. Clumsily bumping onto some people, I met a very happy Jeremy near the main entrance of the mansion. About fucking time. God, I didn’t wanna be an ass, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I was thinking maybe I could come over tonight at your place.” He flashed me a fond smile, studying my face for approval.
“No.”
“Is everything alright? You look pale, Tobias. Are you sick?” He scrunched his eyebrows, not minding the fact that I denied to have sex with him at his face.
“About to be sick.”