Page 28
A sharp breath leaves my nostrils as I count to ten slowly, reigning in my temper. This boy has been testing all my limits over the last three weeks, and I’m ten seconds from snapping. “The vomiting, Shilo. And the binge eating, followed by a lack of appetite. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your suspicious absence every time I’ve seen you take a bite of something.”
“Y-you...” His face scrunches, small hands fisting at his sides as his face turns bright red. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“Don’t lie to me. This is the second time I’ve caught you throwing up in a bathroom.”
He scoffs, swallowing as he focuses his gaze somewhere to my left. “Maybe it’s you who makes me puke, did you ever think of that?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, somewhat stunned by the words he just said. An uncomfortable feeling claws its way up my throat, talons digging deep until they draw blood, and the stall suddenly feels too small for the air punching out of both our lungs.
A group of guys filter into the bathroom, loudly rambunctious as they use the urinals, and I keep my eyes on Shilo until they finish up. He still won’t look directly at me, studying the paint chipping on his nails instead, and I’m reminded of the smile he gave me in the car that first night we’d met. There’d been an unguarded softness that’s no longer present, and it kills me that I’m the reason for its absence.
“Doll, listen,” I start once we’re alone, and his eyes snap up to clash with mine.
“Don’t call me that,” he nearly snarls, catching me off guard once again with this new display of teeth. “I’m not...not a doll. And I’m not pretty. I’m not anything, so stop with the names and just call me Shilo. Or Reed, like everyone in school does.”
That has me tilting my head, brows knitting together with a frown. “You don’t like it when I call you doll?”
A beat passes before he answers.
“No.” He suddenly deflates, wrapping his arms around himself as he whispers so low I barely hear. “I like it too much.”
I push off the door in an instant, reaching down to cup his face between my palms. “Shilo, listen to me. What happened between us back in August was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened as it did, and I’m sorry if my actions made you feel anything less than the gorgeous boy you are.”
There. I said it. It’s done.
So why is the guilt still eating me alive?
And why does he still look so broken?
How do I fix this?
Shilo licks his lips, wrapping cold fingers around my wrists. “If you think I’m so gorgeous, then why did you kick me out like I was nothing?”
God, and that just…
Guts me.
Fucking spills my insides onto the floor as I let my hands drop away from him, not missing how he tries to cling onto my fingers, a small noise leaving his mouth.
This is why I don’t do relationships. Why I don’t get involved, and why I definitely don’t mess around with baby gays. Feelings make shit complicated. With the type of life I lead—a demanding workload, and an even more demanding father—a complicated love life is the last thing I need.
“I’m not a good person, Shilo,” I sigh, leaning back against the door once again. “I could tell you that I was having a rough night after receiving some bullshit news, that I was wasted, that I’d worked eighty hours in one week. All of it would be true, but it’s not an excuse because the truth is, that’s just who I am. You asked me that night if I found what I’d been looking for at the bar, and I’d told you no, remember?”
His brows furrow as he nods, fingers twitching where they rest in his lap.
“Sex is something I use as a...release. A way to unwind after a long week. I’d been looking for a hookup, and you happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
It’s harsh and cruel, but the truth usually is.
Shilo tilts his head, blue eyes searching my face. “Is that what you’re doing with Kansas?”
“Who?”
“KC,” he waves his hand impatiently, and I stiffen out of instinct.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. Just guessed.”
