West Diaz has been all of these things to me.
After being gone for two years, he's back, begging for my forgiveness. And not just my forgiveness... He wants more.
He wants... Me.
“My what?” I croak.
He lets go of me and steps back. My traitor of a body misses his touch, misses his kisses and warmth. I’m sick for feeling this way. There has to be something wrong with a girl that can manage to nurse a crush and a hatred for the boy who gave her the first real kiss of her life.
“Without it, I’m just a bunch of words,” he says softly.
“Words can repair or tear down,” I remind him.
“True,” he agrees, nodding a little. “But imagine what actions combined with words can do.”
Memories of that night hit me, like the bags of dirt and grass Charlie and her friends had thrown at me, had smashed into my face, my hair, and clothes.
Filthy Slut! Whore! Stay the hell away from my boyfriend.
Despite the first instinct to run, my limbs are frozen. They’re locked and bound by our shared past. “I don’t have to imagine. I already know.”
His face pales a little, but his gaze never wavers. “So do I.”
Marquita met her husband aka Hot Builder at Sonic when they were in high school. She suggests this location to all of her single friends in search of a good man--and if that doesn't work, they can console themselves with cheesy tatertots. She lives in North Carolina in a very, very small town with Hot Builder and their two children.