Page 193 of I’m The Worst

He crowds my space until his face is inches from mine, eyes black in the moonlight.

It’s terrifying.

Fuck.

I should sober the fuck up and walk away before I make this worse. Instead, I open my mouth again like a complete fucking idiot.

“Wolff—”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“I know,” I whisper, tears burning. “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just— I’m not trying to fix you. I just need you to know that I understand because I lo⁠—”

“Don’t.” His whole body tenses, even tighter somehow. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me.”

“But it’s true,” I whisper.

I don’t know why I say it. Maybe because I’m drunk. Maybe because I’m stupid. Maybe because some broken part of me still thinks if I can just get the words out, if I can just make him hear them, he’ll stop looking at me like I’m something he wants to destroy.

He laughs, and it’s a horrible sound.

“True?” He leans in until our noses almost touch. “You want the truth, AJ? Here it is. I will never love you. I will never want you. You were a job. A mess I got stuck cleaning up. The only difference between you and every other broken little Slut is that you don’t know when to shut the fuck up and stop embarrassing yourself.”

My chest caves in.

“You think because I held you a few times, because I let you cling to me in Russia, because I fucked you, it means something?” His mouth curls in disgust. “You were convenient. Warm. Wet. That’s it. That’s all you’ve ever been.”

A sob lodges in my throat. I can’t breathe.

“What the fuck is it going to take to get through your head? How many times do I have to walk away from you? How many times do I have to shove you off, ignore you, leave you standing there, looking pathetic, before you finally understand that I do. Not. Want. You.”

Each word feels like a slap.

“You’re lying.”

His expression hardens. “Am I?”

“Yes. You keep coming back.”

“Because you make it easy—you’re always there with your legs spread and your fucking feelings hanging out, waiting for me to throw you scraps and call it affection. That’s not love, AJ. That’s desperation. And the fact you can’t tell the difference is embarrassing.”

“Is there a problem?” David’s deep voice cuts through the garden.

Wolff leans in closer, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear, his hand still braced beside my head.

“You want to know who I am so badly?” His voice lowers enough that only I can hear it. “I’ll show you. I’ll make you wish I’d left you in Russia.”

The blood drains from my face.

David’s standing a few feet away, his eyes flicking over Wolff first, then me. “Step away from my fiancée, Maddox.”

Wolff doesn’t move. For one horrible second, I think he’s going to say something else. Do something worse. But all he does is drag his unfeeling gaze over me one last time and then walks away.

David waits until Wolff disappears around the hedge before he looks at me properly.

“You’re a mess.”

I let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like I’m choking. “Thanks.”