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It’s regret.
I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out. He’s regretful. Probably of all the things he did to me and put me through.
“If you’re my bully, then I’m the bullied, right?” I begin. “Well, I’m moving on. I have the power. So I’m choosing to forget. I don’t remember the guy who bullied me. Who stood by and watched me get humiliated over and over. Who I hurled insults at. Instead of him, I remember the guy who came to my rescue when I cut my palm that first night at the party. I remember the guy who gave up cigarettes because I wanted him to suffer. And who ate that custard even though he knew what I was up to. I remember the guy who sent Ashley away and defended me. I remember the guy who pulled a five-year-old kid out of a hole and who made that kid feel better about his situation. Instead of my bully, I remember the guy who said he wanted to protect me and when he didn’t, he hated himself a little more every day.”
This is my catharsis.
Tina was right. I have to let go and I am letting go, of old anger, the past, the sense of injustice.
I just didn’t know it would be like this, wrapped around the guy who hurt me.
But I guess it makes sense. He’s been the center of my universe. Why wouldn’t he be with me when I take this step?
“And to answer your question, my mom taught me to stay away from my bully but she also taught me to never stand by if someone was getting bullied.”
Zach’s breaths are harsh and halting and I can feel them down to my bones. I can feel his pain, his anger, his outrage and torture, everything.
Maybe this is what they call telepathy.
This, right here, is transcendence.
“I’m sorry but…” I squeeze his sides with my thighs. “Your family’s fucked up. Like, really fucked up. Your dad?” I shake my head and fist his t-shirt. “He’s a bully. Do you understand? You don’t have to go to Oxford or whatever to be a Prince. It’s all bullshit. Don’t let him tell you that you don’t belong. Don’t let him make you believe all the crap about you, Zach. You don’t deserve that. You –”
Zach pushes his hips into me and rubs up against my core, making me shut up.
“Yeah? What do I deserve?” he asks roughly, staring at me with a breath-stealing intensity.
God, he’s so close.
And hard, and I’m wrapped around him so shamelessly.
But I won’t let him distract me. He needs to know that his dad is an asshole. That he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this because of something that’s not his fault.
“I’m serious,” I tell him.
“Me too.” He rolls his hips against mine, making me shiver. “Tell me what I deserve, Blue.”
“Not this. Nobody deserves to be treated like this.”
Clenching his jaw, he uncurls my hand from his shirt and grasps my palm.
A sharp pain flares in the center of it, reminding me that I fell the moment I got out of the car. Zach’s thumb is pressing on that wound. It’s the same palm I’d cut the night he came back, my left one.
Frowning, he looks down. “What happened?”
“I fell. Because I was dizzy. When I got out of the… c-car.”
The scrapes on my knees pulse as well. It’s like the mention of the car is making all my injuries flare up.
Still holding onto my hand, he looks up. There are a few seconds of confusion on his face but then it clears off.
“You followed me in your car.”
“Y-yes.”
He shakes his head once. “I’m giving you a ride home.”
He goes to move away from me but I tighten my legs around him. “No.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to go. Not yet. I want…”
“You want what?”
His eyes are intense. They glow in the dark. Like beacons. Except, a beacon is supposed to be safe, but his eyes come with a danger of drowning.
“I-I want you to kiss me.”
Gosh, did I really say that?
The sharp inhale of his breath says yes. I did say that and he’s surprised.
Well, why wouldn’t he be? I ran away from him last time when he made me feel something.
But I guess I was lying then. To myself and to him.
I think I’ve wanted him to kiss me for years. Even when he was just my bully.
Maybe it’s pathetic and I’m the girl in horror movies who dies right in the beginning because she just can’t stop herself from checking out the basement.
So be it.
I’m that girl.
I’ll go down in history as the girl who courts heartbreak and hence, deserves tragedy.
“I make you bleed,” Zach murmurs in a low tone, rubbing his thumb over the seam of my lips. A tone laced with regret.
