Betrayed By Her Fiance

Honorable Jerk

ILIANA'S POV

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How stupid can I be?

He emerges from out of the bathroom, steam rolling out behind him, and it's just like we met, except this time I'm sitting on the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks because I let my emotions get the better of me. I held it together, until I had to confront him. "Are you crying?" he stops in the bathroom doorway, his head tilted, jaw sharp and eyes narrowed on me. Biting back the tears, I shake my head, wiping my cheeks, "No, just having a little party," sarcasm is the only thing I have right now, because if I just admit that I cried, my emotions would sweep me under, and drown me.

"Pool party clearly," his lip curls down as his sarcastic sad expression takes over his face, his eyebrows furrowing together, and he drags his finger down his cheek, mocking my tears.

Rolling my eyes, my teeth grind together and I get up off the floor, "You're such a d**k," I snort, my chest hopping. "Me? A d**k? Why would you say that?" he tilts his head, marching over to the small hanging closet and he opens it. I gulp, averting my gaze. Is he going to get dressed right here?

I can feel his gaze on me, and I hear him lightly scoff, "To cry over it, is pathetic," his tone void of any emotion. My gaze lifts, and he suddenly has a jockey on, tugging his pants up, but I focus on his eyes, not daring to let my eyes wander over the God-like built man in front of me, "I'm certain that you've never loved before, because you clearly don't know what it feels like to be betrayed," I sneer, my jaw aching as I try not to bite down on my teeth.

He falls into a deep silence, clearly thinking about something, maybe some sort of betrayal he endured himself?

Maybe he has loved before.

"You're right," he lifts his shoulders into a shrug, tugging a black t-shirt over his head, "I'm not that stupid to put myself in the position to get betrayed," a devilish grin takes over his face, and he's beaming with pride. I hate him. "Sure," I call out his bluff, rolling my luggage over to the bed and he pads over, picking it up onto the bed for me.

Pausing, I stare up at him baffled. He's a jerk, yet also a gentleman.

He catches me staring at him, and he smirks, raising his eyebrows, "What?" the amusement in his voice causes blood to rush to my cheeks, and I can feel them glowing bright red. "You are insufferable," Is all I can come up with. Why can't I be smarter and just think faster?

Frustrated with myself and with him, I huff, glancing back down at my suitcase. I can't possibly wear the same clothes I did yesterday, and my scalp is itching from how oily it already is. Noticing my irked expression, I notice from the side of my eye how his eyebrows raise, "At least I'm not the one suffering," he beams with joy, and I'm baffled at how excited and happy he truly looks.

"I'm going to shower," I spin on my heel, darting for the bathroom and I can just imagine his smirk as he calls after me, "You're welcome to dress in here," the taunting sarcasm has me slamming the door shut behind me, and I'm relieved when the door has a lock.

Noticing that he has a bathtub, my eyes widen. Why is his room so fancy when it's right next to ours?

I pad over to the tub, opening the faucet and adjust the temperature of the water before undressing. I unpack my shower gel, shampoo and conditioner on the edge of the tub, lining them up and hook my loofa over the faucet and slip into the hot water, my muscles tensing before relaxing in the heat. Just as I calmly lay back, the banging of knuckles against the door startles me, my muscles tensing all over again, "Are you hungry?" Drystan's deep voice travels through the door. Starving. "No, I'm good!" I lie, just wanting to get rid of him, afraid he'd find a way through the door.

"Are you sure?" He drags out the words all knowingly, "I'm sure!" I snap. It shouldn't be this difficult to relax on a vacation.

I hear the room door shut, and my fingers drag up my nape, nails digging into my skin as I scratch the irked feeling away that has crawled all over my skin.

Laid back, I inhale a long, calming breath, resting my head on the edge, closing my eyes. Maybe staying with him isn't that bad. It's only for a few days anyway.

I start my routine, and when I get out of the tub, water dripping all over, I wrap the towel around my body, washing my face over the sink and brush my teeth before combing my hair. The room door shuts, and I whip around like I could be seen, feeling on edge knowing that he's back, "Are you almost done?" He calls through the wall, and my shoulders sink, "Almost," I yell back, getting dressed in a hurry. I don't want to be trouble, because this is his room after all.

My wet hair sticks to my back that's open at the top as I slip out of the bathroom, "Sorry, you can use the bathroom," I apologize, hoping he's not mad, but when I turn the corner, he's sitting on the bed, with two pizza boxes, drinks on each side on the bedside tables, napkins on top of the one box while he's eating a slice out of the other.

"I brought you food anyway," he shrugs, leaning back against the wall. My shoulders sink, my stomach turning as the smell engulfs my nose, "You shouldn't have," I murmur, feeling embarrassed. After all this time, I'm used to buying things most of the time, paying for meals...

My father is rich, and even though Nolan never asked for a penny, I just somewhat felt obligated, and he never stopped me, so it became a routine.

"It's no trouble," he shrugs, his eyes flicking toward the other box, "Eat," he demands like I'm a dog, making me halt in my steps. "What?" I asked baffled. I've never been ordered to eat, only been judged and ask if I was going to eat more. I work out a lot to keep my body healthy and in shape. My mother's words echo through my mind, 'No man is going to love a fat big, eat less.' She meant well, she always does, and it's been the motivation my entire life. "I said eat, I can hear your stomach grumbling from here," he scoffs, staring me down. I slip my clothes into my suitcase, closing it and slide it off the bed, hanging up the towel on the hook and brush my hair back over my shoulders before sitting down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to invade his private space.

"Pepperoni," he deadpans, and my gaze lifts to his, "Unless you want my Hawaiian?" he snorts, and my eyes lock on the pineapple pieces on his pizza slice, my mouth watering, "It's fine, I'll pay you back," I cautiously open the box, and his fingers press against the box, "Do you like Hawaiian?" his eyebrows raise, and I shrug, nodding. His lips tug up into a smirk, "We can share," he offers, and my mouth waters too much to say no, so I nod and we exchange half pizza's before continuing to eat. One slice in, he turns on the TV, not minding me one bit, and watches the Harry Potter movie that's on.