I don't know what I planned on achieving with this whole reckless act. I mean, I kind of know. I wanted Trey to experience the exact same punch of hurt he caused me when he ghosted. I hoped doing this would serve as a lesson to show him that he can't just treat me like a disposable option and then show up playing the possessive king.
And the kiss wasn't supposed to last for more than two seconds! A simple, petty peck on the lips to shock him would have been enough.
But that isn't what happens whatsoever.
You'd expect a man who was just beaten within an inch of his life and dragged across concrete to be in excruciating pain–too weak to even lift an arm.
Not Ryder.
I have no idea where the strength comes from, but before I can pull back, Ryder’s arms clamp around my waist like iron band
