Page 171 of Make Me Mean It

Connor freezes.

His hand stays suspended between us for a second, fingers slightly curled like he hasn’t realised there’s nothing there anymore, and seeing it makes me want to step straight back into his touch.

So I move farther away instead.

I shake my head, swallowing around the blood still coating my tongue and the fucking ache sitting behind my ribs. “You don’t get to do that,” I tell him, quieter now because I don’t trust my voice with anything louder. “Not anymore.”

His hand drops.

I can’t watch it happen.

I turn away, grabbing my bag from the bench and swinging it over my shoulder before Connor can say something that makes me forget every reason I’m supposed to stay away from him.

Marcus is leaning against the wall when I look back, breathing just as hard as I am, his jaw already starting to colour where I hit him.

The anger drains out of me almost as quickly as it came.

That’s Marcus.

My best friend.

And Connor is his brother.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess.

“I never wanted this to happen,” I say, holding Marcus’s gaze.

It isn’t an apology. I’m not even sure which part I’d be apologising for anymore.

But it’s the closest thing I’ve got.

I can feel Connor looking at me from somewhere to my side. I don’t need to turn to know he is. Every nerve in my body seems to know exactly where he is at all times.

I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag.

“If I could’ve stayed away,” The words catch somewhere behind my teeth, and I have to force the rest past the pressure closing around my throat. “I would’ve.”

I tried.

I just never stood a chance.