Usually, if someone were to stare at me the way Xander is right now for more than five seconds, I would be compelled to run away. It’s sinister and filled with so much anger, it’s physically wounding. But I can’t run away from him. I did it before and it ruined us for fucking good.

“Why green?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Why is it fucking green?”

“My favourite colour?”

“I hate your favourite fucking colour. I hate you, Kimberly.”

Ouch.

I try to think that I already know that bit of information, that he’s always made his feelings crystal clear, but hearing him say the words is equal to inhaling black smoke straight to my suffocating lungs.

I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to.

“I hate your eyes and your fucking hair.” He clutches a strand and strokes it between his thumb and forefinger as if he’s memorising it – or thinking about burning it. I can never tell with him.

He’s that dark well that’s been abandoned for years. You never know if you’ll find a treasure or vengeful ghosts in it.

“Then stop touching me,” I breathe out. “Stop getting in my way, stop invading my life and knowing so much shit about me.”

Most of all, I need him to stop seeing me. Because if he keeps doing that while pushing me away and letting other beautiful girls into his bed, it’ll only make the fog worse.

Why can’t he leave me alone until we part ways at the end of the year?

Just why can’t he do that?

“I should.” He releases my hair with distaste. “But you keep being this sore thumb, making yourself noticeable all the fucking time. Don’t ask for my attention or I’ll suffocate you with it.”

“I n-never asked for your attention.”

“You want me to believe that?”

“I didn’t.” I push away from him. “Go away, Xander.”

I’ll talk to him when he’s sober. Better yet, I might not talk to him at all. It’s fruitless anyway. It’s not like he’d answer any of my questions like a normal human being.

He’ll just torment me some more, push me around some more, and then I’ll retaliate and it’ll turn ugly.

No, thanks.

He grabs me by my wrist – the scarred one – and forces me back against him. My breathing hitches as he dangles a pack of M&M’s in front of my face. It’s open and all the ones inside it are green.

“Why do you have green M&M’s?” I ask in a small voice.

“I found them.”

“You found them? You expect me to fall for that?”

“Yeah, and I want you to eat them.”

“I won’t.”

“Do it or I’ll turn Kirian against you. He already doesn’t trust you after he witnessed your suicide attempt.”

My lips part as I stare at him. “D-don’t.”

“Then eat them.” He shoves the M&M’s into my palm. “And don’t vomit them or I’ll shove another pack down your throat. I can do that all night.”

“But Mum –” I cut off before I blabber everything. I can’t tell him about my deal with her. My wanting to say something is a nasty habit from when we were children, where I ran to him and poured my heart out, then slept all wrapped around him.

Xander used to pat me to sleep, but now, he would just push me into a bottomless hole.

He’s not my friend anymore; he’s my enemy. I can’t let my stupid memories get the better of me.

“I don’t fucking care about Jeanine.” His gaze hardens. “Do it.”

Sometimes, I swear he loathes my mother, but he has no reason to, aside from what I used to tell him. Did I paint her like an actual monster back then?

“Xander…”

“Shut the fuck up. I told you not to say my name.” He releases my hand and motions at the pack. “Eat it.”

Keeping much-needed distance between us, I open the pack with trembling fingers. The smell of the peanut and chocolate gets me right in the nose. Considering I only had an apple today, my stomach growls with the need for a taste.

I stare up at Xander with one final plea not to have me do this. I’ll have to run or do exercises for an hour to erase the calories and I hate physical activities from the bottom of my heart.

“Hurry,” he orders.

“Damn you,” I curse him under my breath as I throw the first M&M in my mouth. My heart skips a beat at the taste, sweet with that rich chocolate flavour. It’s been so long, a year to be exact, since I last had M&M’s. Even more since I last enjoyed them.

I had them that day I lost him once and for all and since then, I haven’t been able to properly taste M&M’s or pistachio gelato.

The first piece is the hardest, the second tentative, but by the third, I’m popping them as if I’ve been dying and it’s my cure to live. I want to savour it more, to commit the taste to memory, but I’ve been starved of this joy for way too long.

No idea if it’s because a long time has passed since my last M&M or the fact that I feel Xander watching me like a hawk as I devour the entire pack.

I don’t dare look up at him and meet those eyes, or else I’d offer and share. I’d stop and ask all the questions burning inside me.

The pack is empty too soon, and the moment the last bit disappears down my throat, I feel the need to throw up.

Shit.

I ate all those calories. I need to get them out and –

“Don’t even think about it.”

I lift my head to find Xander staring down at me with his lids half-closed, although the rest of his face is stone cold.

Only Xander wouldn’t loosen up when he’s drunk.

“How do you know what I’m thinking about?” I ask.

“I just do. It’s a curse.” He reaches his thumb to my lower lip and wipes some chocolate off. “You want to throw it back up, but don’t. Rein it in. I’ll stay with you until the urge goes.”

My chin trembles, but I clench my mouth, not wanting to feel the softness of his touch or the dooming weight of his words.

I’ll stay with you until the urge goes.

How can he say things like that so easily? How can he reach inside me and effortlessly wrench these feelings out?

He places his thumb with the bit of chocolate between my pursed lips. “Finish it.”

I shake my head, but that only makes him push his thumb harsher until it connects with my teeth. “We can do it the easy way or the hard way.”

Or I can just bite you.

I’m about to do that when he smirks as if he’s been reading my thoughts all along. “For the record, biting me is the hard, not the easy one.”

I dart out my tongue and lick the chocolate off his thumb. It’s quick and I finish soon after I start.

My tongue itches for more. I’m like a newbie getting her first hit of drugs, her first high, and needing so much more of that madness.

Xander doesn’t remove his finger, even after I’m done. He stares at me with a weird type of intensity.

He always has this frown whenever he looks at me, a fucked up type of interest, which I’ve always known is because he hates me.

But right now, it’s not hate that’s staring back at me. It’s anger, raw and unhinged. A shudder goes through me, even though he hasn’t directed it at me yet.