Finding Delaware (State of Us #1)

by Bree Wiley

Mixing liquor is never a good idea. The more Royce and I drink and dance, though, the less I give a shit. Whatever booze I threw up is quickly replaced, and I feel Taylor’s eyes on me the entire time. Blondie is nowhere to be seen, but he’s watching me with an expression I can’t read whenever I glance over at the pool table. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate him. For making me feel this way. For never getting out of my head. For hurting me. But mostly, I hate myself for hurting him back. The longer the night goes on, the drunker I get. I don’t even think we finish all the shots, vaguely remembering Royce handing them out like candy. I think he quit drinking a while ago, but I can’t seem to stop. The longer Taylor stares, the more I want to forget him. Forget his bright eyes that can’t seem to pick a fucking color, forget the way he kisses even though it’s never left my mind in over four years, forget the joy on his face from building a fucking snowman. Even the feel of his mouth on my cock, which is so sick and twisted that I’m even thinking about that. Sick and twisted. Toxic. He’s no good for you, Royce said. I’m no good for him. We’re no good for each other, and yet I Can’t Let Him Go.