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“I’m
not thinking about anything.”
“Right. Sorry, Bri, but I’m calling bullshit on that. You’re thinking things when you don’t need to be thinking things. December is using my shower. She warned me she might be using it because her hot water isn’t working. I told you. I’ve called someone for it—”
“But that’s the thing. You don’t need to tell me.”
“I do.” He cut in front of me, the door closed via his back. Pushing off it, he simmered above me. I’d yet to see Ramses truly panicked. Frustrated, yes. I’d seemed to have done that countless times to him in a span of merely a few weeks. Even still, he always regained his cool rather quickly.
He wasn’t now, like he had actual fear in his eyes. Fear of me leaving or… whatever, and that told me something really strong.
He was way too invested too.
He was way too into this too. We were friends, yes, but we were both way too emotionally invested.
“I do because it matters to you,” he continued, his lips parted. “It means something. December is my friend.”
“Like we’re friends?” I directed my gaze up to him, his eyes flashing.
He shook his head, slow. “Bri—”
“Why haven’t you dropped my class, Ramses?” I wet my lips. “Why are we playing this game?”
“No game.” He came forward. He pushed a hand into his curls. “And you are my friend. December’s my friend too, but there’s a difference.”
“What?” My throat thickened, my swallow tight. “What’s the difference?”
“She’s my friend by choice,” he admitted, eyes scanning mine. “And though that may not have always been the case, back then with our history, it is now. She’s my friend by choice. A choice I made.”
“And me?” My nostrils flared, but when he shifted, I turned away. I couldn’t look at him.
And definitely didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
I didn’t think I was strong enough for it. Because if she was his friend by choice, and regardless of her lack of availability, that only meant one thing.
That it truly wasn’t like that with her. Because he wanted it to be that way. He was friends with her because that was what he desired, but with me, he didn’t have that choice.
Because I’d made it for him.
No, I couldn’t hear that. I couldn’t let him admit that. It was too much, and I needed to leave. I eased around him.
“Brielle. Please.”
“I’m leaving.” I didn’t face him. “And you’re going to let me.”
Because he wouldn’t trap me. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t want him to do.
Of that, I knew.
I’d gotten to know this guy, this man. He played all his cards in front of me.
Always honest.
“Text me when you get to your car.”
He stated the words at my back, so easy to read him.
You have to go.
