The words are a painful blow straight to my heart.
My hand slips from his arm, leaving a cold space between us as I take a shaky step back.
His eyes widen when he realizes what he said. “I didn’t mean—shit—I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, clearly apologetic, but instead of stopping there, he keeps going, fumbling, twisting the knife even deeper.
“It’s just— I mean— Are you saying you have a dick?”
I don’t want to answer that. I want to go back four months ago and stay firm in my initial decision. To never go to his games, or the fall festival, or Halloween, or Christmas. To doanything in my power to avoid this moment happening.
But I can’t.
So I nod, once.
And like something out of my worst nightmare, I have to see the moment it clicks into place for him. The moment his eyes dart down to my crotch.
My face burns as nausea claws up my throat. I’ve never felt so exposed. Nate knows everything, and I’m wearing this stupid dress and every inch of my body feels wrong, and—
“Iris,” Nate says, louder, not for the first time, but I barely even hear him over the thoughts in my own head, spiraling out of control until—
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. Damn it,” He seems upset with himself, and I appreciate that, somewhere deep inside, that he knows it was wrong.
But it’s too late.
I can feel myself shutting down, trying to build that wall back up that he tore down completely before using it against me. I need this pain to go away.
I don’t recognize my own voice when I whisper, “It’s okay.”
Nate takes a step toward me, but my heart is pounding, and I can’t be here anymore.
“Hey, look at me,” he says, gentle now for some reason. Probably the tears I can feel streaming down my face.
I shake my head, averting my eyes even more. “I have to go.”
“Just wait a minute, okay? We have to talk about this. How about we just sit down and—”
I can’t speak. The words are gone, buried under the roaring in my ears and the nausea twisting my stomach, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel him looking at me.
And he knows.
It feels like his eyes are burning through my skin.
He’s too close, and the air is too thin, and everything in me is screaming to get out of here. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, “I need to go.”
Before he can reach for me, before he can say anything else, I rush to the door. My heels clicking against the hardwood.
I don’t look back.
I don’t even grab my coat.
“Iris! Wait!” His voice follows me, but I slam the door shut behind me.
I’m barely even aware of how the freezing snow bites at my skin. My car is buried under a thin layer of ice, the door frozen shut from sitting unused all day.
I tug at it, gritting my teeth through the pain until my numb fingers slipping against the handle can pull it open.
I’m still crying when I make it inside my apartment.
My entire body is shaking, the barely there straps of my dress doing nothing to keep me warm. I kick off my heels and rip the snow-covered dress off my body.
