Cranston’s POV
Fuck.
Fuck!
Picking up a bottle of tequila off the ground beside me, I hurl it across the roof where it smashes against the wall.
Grasping my hair with my fist, I throw myself backwards on the couch and close my eyes.
Damnit.
I did not handle that well, yet again.
The image of Bree’s hurt expression during her outburst is burned against the back of my eyelids.
What was I thinking?
Bree was right to be upset.
Bree is not like the other girls that I have been with.
I do care about her. I do care if she gets hurt. I do care if she likes me after we ‘break up.’
I should have known that Bree would not be able to handle any of this. I should never have hooked up with her.
If I had just controlled myself…everything would have been fine.
I knew Bree was not a cas
