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“You’ll have to come to find out.” Tanner uses the only leverage he has.
“Why would I come for some stupid announcement that doesn’t affect me?”
“Oh, it will.” Tanner pauses. “In fact, it already has.”
Tanner makes his way to the open door, his steps echoing in the barely furnished apartment. He turns around a few seconds before he walks out.
“I’ll see you there, little brother. Actually, I hope to see you both there.” He doesn’t dare look at me. The door clicks shut, and we wait for his footsteps to fade down the hall.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this,” I say, recognizing the look on his face.
“Aren’t you?” Haze walks to the living room.
“That’s the curiosity talking. That’s exactly what he wants. What if it’s a trap?”
“He’ll be dead before he hurts you,” he says, still aimlessly roaming his apartment. He won’t admit it, but seeing his brother again wasn’t easy.
“He’s still your brother,” I breathe.
“I don’t care. He sure as hell didn’t seem to care when one of his guys put a gun to my temple. I... I need some air.”
I follow him onto the balcony, the rage radiating off him making me rethink my every word before they even come out.
“Haze,” I whisper behind him.
The lean muscles of his back stretch to the rhythm of his unsteady breathing, his hands gripping the railing so tight that his knuckles turn white. This is a fresh night, and he’s still shirtless. He looks completely unbothered by the chilly temperature.
I, on the other hand, am starting to understand what Jack must’ve felt like in Titanic.
“I lost my brother…” He finally speaks after a few seconds. “Who, as crazy as he is, was pretty much the closest thing I had to a family since Des died. Then, I lost my fighters. This may not mean much to you, but I thought they were my friends. And now…” He looks ahead into the emptiness. “Now I’m going to lose you, too.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not going to lose me.” I press myself to him. He wraps his arms around me, and even in this ice age, his skin is smoking hot. I relish in the searing of his body on me and take in every bit of his cologne.
“Do you think I don’t know that we only have a week left?” He tells me the words I’ve been dreading. “In that week, we have finals and prom and my parents’ stupid reception. We barely have any time together. What about after? When are we going to talk about this?”
I break away from his hold. “Don’t pin this on me. I tried talking to you, but you’ve been gone for days. It’s pretty hard to communicate when there’s only one of us talking.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t have to pretend I’m not seeing you anymore if you weren’t the damn East side girl!” He raises his voice at me.
I fall silent, disbelief crushing me. Are we really doing this right now? Is he seriously blaming me for being, well… me?
“Do you think I want this? Do you think I asked to be in the middle of your stupid war?” I shout. I know he’s going through something right now, but that doesn’t give him the right to speak to me this way. “If you wanted nothing to do with the damn ‘East side chick’ as you so nicely put it”—I create air quotes with my fingers—“then maybe you shouldn’t have made a deal with her as the prize in the first place.”
The argument keeps escalating. Overwhelmed, I don’t wait for it to reach a higher level and walk back inside the apartment. Haze doesn’t miss a beat, mirroring my actions.
“What about me? Do you think I wanted this to happen? Do you think I planned to fall in love with you?” He trails behind me. “You were supposed to be a game. A way to destroy the East side. You were supposed to be nothing to me. Nothing,” he snaps, and I blink back the tears forming in my eyes.
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m sorry that you hate loving me so much,” I scream and head for his bedroom. “Let me spare you any more trouble.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls as I grab the bag of clothes I packed to stay with him and throw its strap over my shoulder. I stride toward the front door, but he’s too fast. He easily steps in my way, his hard chest blocking me.
“Move.” I try hitting him, pushing him, tackling him, but nothing gets me the results I seek. He picks the strap off my shoulder and my bag meets the floor. On punch number three, he steps sideways, but it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not because he’s letting me go.
Not even close.
He grips my waist before I can twist the handle, spins me around, and slams my back to the door. He forcefully jacks his body to mine to immobilize me. We’re both angry messes. Two stupid kids in love, blinded by the fear of losing the only thing that matters. The only thing the whole world denies us. Every sign, every moment… they point us toward the colossal and impending truth. That maybe we really aren’t meant to be together. That the Universe keeps on pulling us apart for a reason. It’d be so much easier if we just let it go, parted ways, and remembered the brief, passing romance we shared during our senior year. It should be easy… but love never is.
“You are not leaving me!”
