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"Even so."
"No." Her hair falls in front of her eyes as she shakes her head. When she blinks, a tear catches on her lashes. "What if I'm sick again?"
I have no fucking idea how to answer that, so I pull her closer.
Hold her tighter.
"When it first happened, I was in shock. Then I got angry. At the universe. At my parents. At everyone who didn't have to deal with cancer at twenty-two. But, mostly, I was angry with my body. It betrayed me. I know It sounds ridiculous."
"It doesn't."
"Really?"
I nod. I can't imagine how I'd feel if I were in her shoes. There's no way I'd handle it with half the grace.
"My body and I… we aren't friends. Friendly, sometimes. But not friends. I can feel it in everything I do. I'm not as good at aikido, I'm a slower swimmer, I don't notice when I'm hungry. I drink too much tea and get too little sleep. And I… well, up until a few weeks ago I'd given up on trusting my body enough to want someone."
"You didn't want anyone?"
"No. I did. But only in an intellectual way. And that meant I stayed in my head. I kept thinking of the way Alex looked at me like I was broken and unlovable. Of how strange my—" She looks down at her chest. "It's weird. Having fake boobs."
"Nobody's ever—"
"Never."
Fuck, that's an invitation if I've ever heard one.
But I meant what I told her earlier. I don't have the self-control to stop if I start.
Fuck. I barely have the self-control to keep my hands to myself at the moment.
I can't let her know that.
I'm sober and I'm not facing a life changing test tomorrow.
I've been the responsible one before—fuck knows I've dragged Leighton's and Walker's drunk asses home a million times—but it's never felt like this much of a responsibility.
"It means the world to me that you're telling me this, sunshine." I run my fingers through her hair. "But I still can't fuck you."
"You can." She sinks into my lap. "You're still hard."
"Well aware of that."
Her smile is sad, but it still lights up her eyes. "Is there a line?"
"A line?"
"You've kissed me twice now. So that's in."
"Are we negotiating?"
"If that isn't too pathetic."
"You're scared. It's brave, admitting that. Facing it."
Her laugh is happier, but just barely. "I'm not facing it. That's why I'm begging you."
"When's your test?"
