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“Jack...” Belle said. Her voice trailed off as words abandoned her.
“The last thing I want is to let you go, because I do love you. I love you so fucking much, but I will suck the life out of you. You might love me now, but five or ten years down the track you’ll be nothing but a broken shell. I can’t stand the thought of you hating me for that, and you will end up hating me for it.”
“I don’t get it, what do you mean, broken shell?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.
I sighed, reaching up to wipe her tears away. “I’m messed up, Belle. You deserve better than me. I’m scared of hurting you, I-I’m scared of ending up like my father.”
Belle hugged me tighter. “I’m a big girl, Jack, believe it or not, and capable of making decisions for myself. And I don’t believe for a second that you would sabotage this. I think what we have is strong enough to get through anything, even your insecurities.”
“But what if I’m right? I can’t risk ruining you. Even if there’s only the slightest, most miniscule chance that being with me will break your spirit, then I don’t know if I can do it.” I turned my head away, cursing at the tears that were threatening to roll down my cheeks.
Being in love sucked. Things were much easier when I was just an asshole. I took what I wanted without caring how my actions affected others. I’d rather hurt myself than risk hurting her.
“I’m willing to take that risk. You have to trust me. You need to believe in yourself and us. And you need to believe me when I tell you that you won’t damage me. Even if you completely fuck up, I’m strong enough to handle that. That’s part of what you love about me—my strength—and that’s something that will never go away.
I smiled up at her. She reached up and wiped the tears from my eyes. I leaned toward her and kissed her tenderly. She was so much wiser than her eighteen years.
***
“Nope, blue,” she giggled.
“Seriously? Fuck me,” I groaned, taking another shot of whisky. We both sat naked on the floor, our clothes surrounding us. We’d spent the rest of the evening entertaining ourselves by getting to know each other better. The latest game was guessing things about each other. Things like favorite color, favorite movie, favorite band, favorite food, and so on. You get the picture. We were both slightly tipsy but I was impressed with how many things we actually got right.
Still, I couldn’t believe that I’d gotten her favorite color wrong. It seemed every day she was wearing something pink, so surely it was a natural assumption on my part that her favorite color might be pink. Apparently not.
“Okay, your turn,” she laughed.
“Hmm,” I said in deep concentration. “What is my favorite band?” I asked, handing her a bottle as if I already expected her to get it wrong.
“Oh, crap, I know this one...Um, Jimmy Hendrix?” She announced, a smile on her face.
I rolled my eyes. “One person is not a band, Belle,” I teased. “Wait! That’s why you had no idea who he was! Because you’re only eighteen!” I collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. That should have been the first thing to tip me off. She leaned over and hit me, laughing as hard as I was.
“Just because I don’t have your same bullshit taste in music doesn’t give you permission to make fun of me,” she retorted, taking her shot. She made a face and handed me back the bottle. “Fuck, Jack, it’s two in the morning. I have school tomorrow, not to mention my parents are probably freaking out.”
I snorted. “What are you going to do? Stumble home drunk?”
“What’s the alternative?” she asked as she shrugged and started gathering her things.
“Stay here with me.” I took her hand and pulled her into my arms. “Text your parents, say you lost track of time and you’re staying with a friend. And spend the night with me.” I kissed her neck while she debated the pros and cons of my proposition.
“I guess I could do that,” she said slowly, turning to face me. She had that look in her eyes again—the one that told me I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.
&
nbsp; Chapter Eighteen
We eased back into a routine pretty quickly. Belle gave up on trying to stay away and just began to study at my house. Not that we actually got much studying done, but I helped where I could.
“What do you want to watch?” I asked, putting on the television. I had gotten her drinks, snacks, and given her little distractions when she needed it.
“I don’t mind,” she said, a smile on her face. Her course books scattered the floor and she looked tired.
“Come here,” I said, patting the space on the couch between my legs. She made a face and I laughed. “No, for once I’m not thinking that,” I chuckled. She came over to me and sat down, waiting for me to do whatever it was I was going to do. I gently lifted her top and pulled it over her head. I unclasped her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms.
Slowly, I began to rub her neck, my fingers easing out the knots that had formed in her muscles. She groaned softly, letting me know that it was exactly what she needed.
For the next half-hour I worked on her neck and her shoulders, relieving all the tension that had been building up. The stress of her exams and having to keep our relationship secret had taken its toll on her.
