Brandon froze. The possessive rage in his eyes vanished, instantly replaced by panic. Without throwing a single backward glance in my direction, he turned and sprinted back inside to his precious first love.
I stood on the sidewalk and laughed. It was a hollow sound, but it felt incredibly freeing. He couldn't even pretend to care about me for a full minute.
“Well,” Vaughn murmured, opening the passenger door of his sports car. “Shall we?”
I slid into the plush leather seat. As Vaughn drove us away, the city blurred past the windows.
“Hmm, interesting,” Vaughn said, breaking the silence. He tapped the steering wheel, glancing at me with a playful smirk. “I know of him, obviously, but I don’t know who his girl is. Are you really not his girl?”
I leaned my head against the cool window. “I’m no one’s.”
Vaughn chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “Is that so? Maybe you should be my girl, then.”
I just laughed it off, closing my eyes and letting the exhaustion wash over me.
The next morning, I was dead asleep on the sofa bed in the apartment when violent banging jolted me awake. The doorbell rang incessantly.