Home > Breaking Her (Love is War #2)(6)

Breaking Her (Love is War #2)(6)
Author: R.K. Lilley

She gasped and started screaming.

I started screaming louder.  

That was only the start.  I kept going, breaking things until I felt I'd adequately gotten her attention. 

That was when I really let her have it.  "FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK!" I screamed into her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed back. 

My voice got deadly quiet to show her that I was in control of myself.  "If you embarrass me to Scarlett I'll make you sorry.  Every time you want to show me off at some stupid party, I will put on the stupid suit, I will let you do my stupid hair, and then the second you try to introduce me to someone."  I pitched my voice louder suddenly, back to near hysteria.  "I'm just going to shout FUCK at the top of my lungs." 

Her hand was at her throat.  She looked horrified.  "What has gotten into you?"

"FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!" I repeated, again and again. 

"What is wrong with you?" 


"I don't even—"

"CUNT!" I brought out the very worst curse word, which I'd only ever heard from my dad when I was eavesdropping on my parents fighting.  "CUNT!  CUNT!  FUCK!"

I won that round.  She couldn't stand the thought of anyone thinking her perfect son might be disturbed, mentally challenged, or worse, ill bred.

I thought I'd won the war with that silly display.  I thought it was enough to keep her in check, to make her leave me alone to live my life, to pick my own friends, to make my own choices and take my own path.  

I was so foolish.   


"Every girl should use what Mother Nature gave her before Father Time takes it away."

~Laurence J. Peter



We were having a beach day.  All of my roommates had conspired to drag my cheerless ass out into the cheerful light of day. 

Fun in the sun.  Yay. 

I actually did try to be a good sport about it.  I put on a tiny bikini with a sexy gold sequined cover up, piled my hair on top of my head in a thick, messy bun, and put on my best knock-off designer shades.

And, of course, my game face. 

We all brought a guy along, though it wasn't planned. 

I took Anton.  He had a break in filming from his show, and he loved the beach.  And the company. 

Leona brought her still-boyfriend pilot, Ed.  I still didn't like him, but I kept my mouth shut about it.  There's a point when your girlfriend has fallen too far for a guy to be turned back with any sage advice, and that was the point when I stopped giving it.  I wouldn't alienate her.  We were put on this earth to support one another, not tear each other down, and so I was resigned to watch, worry, and wait.  There was nothing I could do but be there to pick her up off the ground if she fell too hard. 

Demi brought her friend, Harry.  He was an adorable college kid with messy brown hair and thick, black hipster glasses.  I kind of loved him.  He was sweet and shy, and innocent enough to be just perfect for a bright and shiny young soul like Demi. 

Farrah brought along Mitch, a guy she'd been dating on and off for at least a year. 

He wasn't her boyfriend, per se, but he was certainly a regular, and all of the roommates liked him. 

Even me.  He was a cop—LAPD—so I'd just avoided him at first, aggressively so. 

As I've said, I have a very healthy fear of the police.

But over time, Mitch had just sort of grown on me.  He was nice, and he seemed fair.  Honest.  Sincere and straightforward, particularly so when he talked about his work.  He was one of the good guys.  It was as refreshing as it was baffling to run into one.

Still, I'd never get over being paranoid around law enforcement, and I knew that he would always make me nervous. 

Of course I could never let that show. 

We took two cars, and Anton and I ended up in the car with Mitch and Farrah.  Which is how I found out that Anton did not share my opinion about Harry. 

"What a smarmy little punk," he muttered as we parted ways with the other group, climbing into cars to head to the beach.  His eyes were on Harry, who was opening the door for Demi, so I didn't have to ask whom he meant.   

Mitch was driving, Farrah in the passenger seat, and I was sharing the backseat with Anton, so I had an unimpeded view as I shot him a look.  "What is your problem?  Harry is a doll."  I hadn't been aware there was any animosity between them, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out where it came from.

"I guess.  If you like pretentious little mamas' boys."

I blinked at him slowly, letting him see how crazy I thought he was.  "What the hell, beardo?  Leave the poor kid alone.  What'd he ever do to you?"

His arms were crossed over his chest, biceps bulging in a way that would have been very distracting if I wasn't starting to see him as a brother, and his face was set in what I would have called a pout if he weren't a huge dude with a man-bun and amazing facial hair. 

Nope, I decided.  It was still a pout. 

"He didn't do anything," Anton finally answered, "but there's no way he's good enough for Demi.  She's out of his league." 

I don't know why, but I still didn't connect the dots.  I was preoccupied, had too much going on in my head, and yes, I was being self-absorbed, were the only excuses I could come up with later.

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