Page 100 of Trailer Trash

“More?”

I almost groan, but I summon enough courage to look up. I expect a taunting smile in response to my vulnerable confession, but his expression isn’t playful at all. It’s stern and intense.

“Yeah. I want more, Kill. I don’t want to just sleep with each other. I want... I don’t know. I want you.”

“Why do you have to be like this?” he scolds, his tone sharp and impatient. “The sex is—”

He stops himself, and balls his fists. His nostrils flare. I don’t understand why he’s reacting this way.

“The sex is great,” I finish his sentence for him. “But it isn’t enough for me.”

“Why?” he hisses.

I lift my chin. “You know why. You of all people have to know I am not the type of woman who can sleep with a guy and it mean nothing. Being with you never means nothing, Killian.”

His jaw clenches, making the muscles bulge.

To my surprise, he takes my hands in his, and in an exasperated tone, he asks, “Why can’t we just have fun?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands, horrified with myself. Frida and students stop what they’re doing. Their gaze burns my skin.

Damn it, Harlow. Why? My heart is already on the table. I didn’t need to hand him a knife in front of an audience.

As if this nightmare isn’t bad enough, Killian doesn’t respond with his own declaration of love.

He steps back and side-eyes me, as if I just told a stranger I loved him and they thought something is wrong with me.

There are no words to describe how painful this feels. Killian has become my world in so many ways, and at this moment, I’ve never felt so wrong about someone.

I rush out of the building.

He doesn’t feel the same way. That’s clear. We’ll never be together. That was the proof I needed.

And God, I regret it.

Because now?

It’s over.

27

Killian

The cocaine hits my sinuses, delivering a smooth burst of joy. I check the bathroom door, making sure I locked it. I don’t want a dance Mom walking in on me doing snow. I hold the phone to my ear as I sniff a third line.

“What do you mean your brother went to jail?”

“Brax was dealing drugs,” says Charlotte.

That explains why Brax hasn’t answered his phone. What the hell? Where will I get my coke?

I hang up and call Meghan, who, thank God, has the stuff. I head over to her place — the porn palace — after work. It’s another contemporary mansion. I still gawk at it, shocked how much sucking dick on camera can pay.

As I walk inside, I thumb through my phone.

Just a quick check-in on Harlow. I want to make sure she made it back to class after ambushing me with whatever the hell that was. She’s clearly stressed. I could slip more money into her wallet. That should prevent another emotional outburst. I bet she’s on her period.