Standing here, in the middle of my bedroom, eyeing Marcel as he stands before me with his hand still tucked into the pocket of his charcoal gray slacks, my blood runs hot in my veins, my jaw clenching as his eyes glare into my own. I arch a brow, my voice darkening as I ask, “Are you done?” He narrows his eyes on me, but before he can mutter a sound, I interject, sassing him, “Because if you are, I’d like to finish what I was going to say.” He scoffs, shaking his head angrily as he growls, “I don’t need to hear it. You want all of the benefits of being with me without having to make any commitments, because you don’t know what you want. You never have.” My eyebrows furrow, the anger boiling inside of me spilling over as I yell, “That’s not true! You don’t even —” “It’s not?” He raises his eyebrows, laughing at me, taunting me as he muses, “Well, that’s a first.” Screw. You. Marcel. I’m at the verge of telling him to g
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