Page 154 of Make Me Mean It

He’d let me.

I could kiss him right now and he’d kiss me back, and we’d end up right where we always do. Hands everywhere, clothes on the floor, Connor telling me I’m beautiful until the sun comes up and he remembers he’s not supposed to want me.

A broken sound catches in my throat.

“Yeah,” I manage, forcing myself to pull away. “So am I.”

Cold air rushes into the space between us.

It shouldn’t feel this different. He’s barely a foot away, but the loss of his body heat makes my stomach lurch, and I shove my hands against my sides because I don’t trust them not to reach straight back for him.

“There must be something seriously wrong with me.”

My own voice sounds strange.

Distant.

Connor’s face changes, but I can’t stop now. If I stop, I’ll lose my nerve, and I’m so fucking tired of losing it every time he touches me.

“Because I knew better.”

My breath catches halfway in and I have to swallow before I can force the rest out.

“I fucking knew better.”

My voice breaks on the last word.

I look away, jaw clenching as I try to get myself back under control, but then I look at him again and something in me refuses to leave it there.

I step forward.

I don’t know why.

Maybe because even now, when I’m trying to end this, I still need him to understand.

“I took every scrap you bothered to give me,” I say, quieter now. “Every fucking second.”

Connor goes completely still.

“Every time you touched me like you couldn’t get enough and then five minutes later acted like I meant nothing to you.” My mouth falters around the words, hurt pushing through no matter how hard I try to keep it out. “Every time you kissed me and then pretended it shouldn’t have happened. Every time you wanted me right up until wanting me meant you had to actually fucking look at what you were doing.”

His lips part, but I shake my head.

I can’t hear it yet.

Not until I finish.

“I took all of it, Connor. The denial. The shitty comments. You walking out on me. You coming back when you couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching me, then acting like I was asking too much because I wanted to know what the fuck that meant.”

My hands are shaking again.

I shove them deep into my pockets, curling them into fists where he can’t see, because if I leave them loose I know exactly where they’ll end up.

On him.

Undoing every fucking word.

“And I told myself it was enough.”