Chapter 12

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Darius:

I'm on my way back from a weekend with the boys.

Once I got into my car after leaving Donatella standing still as a stature in the doorway, I headed straight to Luca's. We'd gone to pay a little visit to Madelaina's old town.

During the lovely trip, Oakley brought Donatella up, too. Teasing me about liking her.

To be honest, I'm surprised it's the first time that he's mentioned it to them.

It's not true, though.

Like I've said countless times before, I'm not looking for a relationship.

Today solidified that fact for me.

I was getting carried away with this whole thing. Even started to feel a little guilty.

Sure, she's a nice person. Sweet. But that's also part of the issue.

If she should be with anyone, it shouldn't be me. I'm an asshole.

From the very beginning, I wasn't interested in her personality. I was interested in getting my dick wet. Still fucking am.

I'll still do whatever she wants considering sex. As long as I get to taste her. Feel her.

I need to escape this collapse and return to myself.

Besides, she wouldn't want me anyway. Not really.

I'm not a good person. I've known it.

Me and my friends. We deal with shit sometimes. None of it legal. Not of it merciful. And I don't give a fuck. I enjoy the pain that I inflict. Revel in the rush it gives me.

Now, do I hurt innocents? No.

Do I fuck up bastards that deserve it? Hell yeah, I do. And I don't feel an ounce of remorse while doing it.

Does that make me a bastard in turn? Maybe.

But I've been this way for a long time. I'm not about to go around changing now. Not that I could. Not that I want to.

I am who I am.

And I'm going to get this girl to like that. Just a little. Just enough to fall into my bed.

That's what I want.

And I always get what I want.

Come Monday morning, I'm leant back in my chair in our English classroom, twirling a pen between my fingers and waiting for my little ballerina to float in like she seems to always do

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Come Monday morning, I'm leant back in my chair in our English classroom, twirling a pen between my fingers and waiting for my little ballerina to float in like she seems to always do.

So innocent.

Perhaps that's part of her appeal to me.

She arrives behind a few other students. Steps light and airy.

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