23| Awkward

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I stared down at my hands that held the gun that just shot Santiago. I wasn't sure if he was alive or dead but I had a feeling he was dead.

I glanced at Sebastian to see his mouth moving but I couldn't hear anything coming out. It looked like he was running towards me in slow motion but I knew he wasn't. In a blink of an eye, Sebastian stood in front of me. He slowly began to pry the gun out of my hand. I took a quick step backwards, snapping out of my thoughts. He looked at me with his eyes wide as I pointed the gun at him.

This is all his fault.

If he had said at the alter that he didn't want to marry me, then all of this could've been avoided. He wouldn't have found out about my past.

"Put the gun down," he said slowly as he took a step forwards. I stayed still and switched the safety off. "You're not gonna shoot me." That was my last straw. Santiago was pissing me off and the fact that I killed him. Mix both of those together and you end up with a girl who's pissed off at herself and the world.

What's a word that describes pissed off as more pissed off? Fuck knows.

I pressed on the trigger. I watched as the bullet flew through the air and hit his shoulder, making him stumble back. He didn't fall; he just gritted his teeth together and breathed through the pain. I let out a deep breath and fell to the floor. The gun clattered on the floor next to me. I wasn't worried about it going off and hitting me because if it did, it wouldn't be a shame.

I'm so sick and tired of my life. I just want to be a normal teenager who doesn't have to worry about getting shot or kidnapped. I don't want to be the one pulling the trigger, I don't want to be next to one at all.

Sebastian held a hand out for me to grab hold of. I thought he would just leave me here since I just shot him. I grabbed hold of it and pulled myself up. He bent down and grabbed the gun with his good arm before stuffing it into his waistband. We walked side by side silently all the way to car. The car ride home was awkwardly silent.

~

I knocked on his office door. We arrived back home around ten minutes ago and instantly we went our separate ways, not wanting to talk about what just happened. I heard a faint 'come in'. I walked in and gently closed the door behind me. I saw him stood by his desk, shirtless. He had a cloth covering the wound I had given him in his arm. He glanced over at me before resuming doing whatever he was doing.

"Do you need any help?," I asked. I sure as hell am not going to apologise to him. It's his fault. He didn't say anything. I let out a sigh as I walked towards him. I stood directly in front of him and slowly moved the cloth away, needing to get a better look at it. "Definitely gonna need stitches." I pushed him back slightly, hinting to go sit on the desk since he's much taller than me. I stood in between his legs.

I took the tweezers out of his hand before digging it into his arm. He let out a quiet grunt as he sat still in front of me. There was no exit hole so the bullet is obviously still inside. This isn't my first time doing this. A couple of minutes later, I managed to find the bullet. I pulled it out and put it on the desk. I put the cloth back over the wound as I searched for what I need to stitch it.

"I'm sorry," I heard him mutter. I froze as I almost did a double take. Did he just..?

I think he did.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again. "Everything is my fucking fault." I stayed silent, listening as I began to stitch his arm. "If I called the whole fucking wedding off, we wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have killed that guy. You would have been better off not knowing me."

I can't lie about that.

"Done," I announced as I finished stitching it, completely ignoring what he just said. I stayed where I was, not moving an inch as I stood and stared into his eyes. "I have never ever met a guy that I want to kill so badly. I'm running out of swears to call you. I actually can't think of any new ones to call you; I think I've used them all."

He let out a low chuckle. That wasn't supposed to be funny.

"You're the biggest asshole, dickhead and all the other cuss words in the world (that I currently cannot think of) that I have ever met. My hands are just itching to wrap themselves around your neck until you take your last breath."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to keep strangling someone for at least ten or twenty seconds after they stop breathing?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Thanks for the tip, prick. It's your fault. Everything that has ever happened to me since I met you has been your fault. I can't deal with this shit anymore! I just wanna go to school and be teenager. I don't want to be-."

His lips crashed against mine. I stood frozen for a second before he pulled me closer to him by the waist. At least I didn't have to stand on my tiptoes, since he's sat on the desk, we're about the same height.

What am I thinking?

He's fucking kissing me!

Push him off!

What if I like it?

Our mouths moved in sync. It felt euphoric. I'm telling you now that if he wasn't holding me by the waist, I wouldn't have been able to stand. Weak knees and all. My fingers made their way up to his hair. Damn, his hair's soft. I need to know what conditioner he uses.

Seconds later, we pulled away. I took a couple of steps back, causing his arms to drop. The air between us suddenly felt awkward but I didn't let it faze me. "Thought I was just their friend," I reminded him of the lie he told his sister about me. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it, clearly unable to think of anything to say. Without another word, I strolled out of the office.

Fuck, it's gonna be so awkward between us.

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