Page 145 of Make Me Mean It

The second it leaves my mouth, I want it back.

Theo’s eyes snap to mine, all the warmth disappearing from them.

“I’m not scared,” he grits out.

His jaw locks hard enough that I see the muscle jump beneath his skin.

I open my mouth, but he gets there first.

“I’m tired.”

That shuts me up.

Because there’s no bite behind it, he just sounds fucking exhausted.

I push myself off the bed because sitting still feels impossible, restless energy crawling beneath my skin with nowhere to go. My hand catches in my hair as I pace a few steps toward the desk before turning back to him, frustration already wound too tight in my chest.

“Then what the fuck am I even doing here, Theo?” I demand.

He shrugs, like none of this is getting to him, but I know him well enough by now to see the tension sitting across his shoulders. “You’re the one that invited yourself into my room.”

Something in me snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like I’m the only one who keeps doing this. Like he hasn’t pulled me back every single time I’ve tried to leave. Like I imagined him asking me to stay last night.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t seem to mind when you were begging for my dick.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve fucked up.

Theo recoils.

It’s barely a movement, just the slightest pull backwards, but I see it. I see the exact second it lands, the way his expression empties, and regret twists through my stomach so hard I feel sick.

“Shit.” I scrub a hand down my face, already shaking my head. “I didn’t mean that.”

Theo looks at me for a second, the silence worse than if he’d just told me to fuck off.

Then he pushes himself slowly off the bed.

There’s nothing rushed about the way he moves. He closes the distance between us until he’s standing directly in front of me, close enough that I can see the hurt still sitting behind his eyes even as something colder starts sliding over it.

“Didn’t you?” he asks quietly.

My stomach drops.

“Theo—”

“Because I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, fingers curling into his biceps, and lets out a scoff that doesn’t come close to covering what I just did.

“That’s not what I fucking meant.”

I reach for him, needing to fix it somehow, but Theo flinches back before my fingers can touch him.

My hand stops between us.

The rejection shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, especially when I’m the one who caused it, but something cold still crawls through my chest as I let my arm fall uselessly back to my side.