“No.”
“No, what?” Santos gave me that look that said he was going through every little tidbit of knowledge he had about me to figure out what I’d just said.
“You’re not coming.” Truthfully, I couldn’t quite figure it out myself, but it was important that I spoke up. That I broke patterns, even if I was clumsy at it. “You’ve been weird all day, and you’re weirder now, and we’re not doing anything without your full, enthusiastic consent.”
There.
Erika would be proud of me.
If I managed to get out of the car and into the club without losing it.
“I…consent?” Santos frowned. “I—Where is this coming from?”
“Why do people always ask that?” I huffed. “It’s coming from you being weird. I already told you.”
“Babes, I…” Instead of coming up with some excuse he knew I wouldn’t believe, he ran a hand through his hair before the words could come up. I watched him. On the outside, I supposed I looked stubborn. Dead-set on doing this. I’d been told I could nail the look. Inside, though, was a completely different story of shaky limbs and too many intrusive thoughts to count. “I’m in my head, yeah, but it’s not about you, or coming here with you, okay? It’s just stuff.”
“Just stuff,” I repeated. I didn’t know if it helped me process, but it had to be better than full-on silence, and repeating was all I got. “I don’t feel comfortable with that.”
“You…” Santos blinked owlishly. It was probably the first time I saw him do that with his face. “You’re not comfortable with me having more shit going on?”
“No!” Fuck. I was screwing this up. “I’m not comfortable with pushing you somewhere I’m not sure you want to be. I don’t know if it’s because of that stuff, or just a general thing, but you’re supposed to be excited about this, and you aren’t.”
“That’s not…” Cursing under his breath wasn’t something he did often, either—at least not in front of me. Or because of me.This was becoming worse by the minute. “What do you want me to do?”
“Uh?”
And now I was going to be the one cursing, because when he met my eyes, his were glittering, and his chin wobbled before he clenched his jawline, and I didn’t know how to cope with those big displays coming from him.
I was a terrible person.
“What do you want?” he asked again. “Do you want me to lash out and push you out of the car while I go fuck knows where? Do you want me to grovel after you? To convince you that there’s nothing I want more than to follow you inside that building? What do you want?”
His chest heaved up and down as he finished talking.
I wasn’t quite sure that I was breathing, or that I was doing it right. Actually, I needed air because my lungs were constricting, and the air in the car was getting too charged, and surely, it wasn’t sustainable.
I swallowed it down, eventually. Digging my fingers against the edges of the leather seat helped some.
“I just want you on my side.”
And for whatever reason, the realization dawned on me that he wasn’t. Maybe it was that stuff he wasn’t telling me about, but maybe it was me, too. Maybe I had managed to ruin things with him. To ruin a lifetime of friendship and promises of forever.
I got out of the car before I could say that out loud. Before I could lose it in front of him and prove all his darker thoughts about me were right.
He called for me, I was pretty sure. Unless that was my imagination. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t turn back. It was my luck that he had found parking right by the glass door that led into the industrial first floor of the building—where only the lockers and a small bar stood. None of us really lingered hereafter we’d changed into clothes more appropriate for the club’s dress code. Maybe to grab a bottle of water from whoever was volunteering their time to take care of the bar. It wasn’t anyone I knew today, so I just bypassed them and crossed fingers that everyone had arrived already.
Well, not everyone. It would be nerve-wracking to walk into a room full of people I didn’t know, knowing they’d been waiting for me. That I’d been inconveniencing them by having my little relationship drama in the car.
“Are you okay?”
Uh?
Fuck.
Carlos.
I’d forgotten he was going to be here with Danny. León couldn’t make it, but Danny had said that Carlos was curious about both feminization and chastity—and I was going to talk about both things since I couldn’t make up my mind. I didn’t see Danny anywhere, which was strange, but I supposed I could take advantage of catching Carlos alone.
