“What the f**k were you doing with Marco in my back room?” Cristian asked me, grabbing my upper arm and pushing me to a dark corner of his club. “Huh? What did you f*****g do with him?”
my I balled my hands into fists and ripped myself away from him, feeling the anger pool inside of me. “What were you doing with Alessa? Why were her hands all over you? Why did she walk out of the hallway with you?”
The more questions I asked him, the more I sounded jealous.
Was I really jealous of Alessa? Did I really care about what they did together? Did it really bother me that she and Cristian had slept together countless nights before, touched each other, kissed each other?
Yes. Yes. And yes.
Why?
Because I …
Because I …
I f*****g liked him.
Not that much. Barely at all. But I did. Just a bit
