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Bitter thoughts flood my mind.
Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.
“Like it was right when it told you to go sleep with Bianca after you said you loved me?”
I finally let the truth that’s been dominating my brain for the past month come out. I never confronted him about what he said that night. I never really had a chance. I bet he wondered if I even heard him at all.
When he doesn’t reply as quickly as I anticipated, a wave of nerves and regret drown me.
“I… I’m sorry. Just… Forget I said that.” I turn away, intending to walk back to the fireplace, but he captures my wrist and yanks me back to him.
I suppress a gasp.
In the moonlight, I see everything, from the way he narrows his blue eyes, to the way he tries to figure out what I’m feeling, to the way he destroys my ability to think properly with just one look.
“It’s fine. Really. I get it, Haze. You thought I was going to die and you felt bad, so you said…” I ramble. “I understand that it didn’t mean anything. Plus, you tell everyone that we’re friends. It’s oka—”
He cuts me off. “Winter, look at me.”
I don’t move, my heart caught in a war against my brain.
“Look at me,” he repeats, cupping my face with his hand.
He lifts my chin up to let our eyes come together. I hate that I shiver at the contact.
“I told you. I didn’t sleep with her.”
I refuse to let his pretty words work their magic on me but can’t help but want to hold on for dear life to the sincerity in the back of his irises. I want to believe him. I really do.
“Right,” I whisper.
“It’s true. Yes, I showed up at her house, but I didn’t sleep with her. I must’ve been there two minutes, if that.”
He pauses and places a hand on my cheek.
“And, for the record, I didn’t say shit because I felt bad or because I thought you were dying.” He lowers his eyes to my mouth for a few endless seconds. “I meant what I said.”
If I thought I was shocked before, I definitely wasn’t ready for this.
“I still do.”
A whirlwind of disbelief captures me. His words hit me so hard I know I won’t be able to formulate a comprehensible sentence anytime soon.
He steps closer and I step back, reminded of the countless times we almost kissed. We’ve been there, we’ve done that. We’ve been through this before.
But… is this time different?
“So, no, I don’t want to be your friend, Kingston.”
Oxygen.
I need oxygen.
“I don’t want to be near you knowing I can’t push you up against the wall right now and do all the things we talked about last week.” I know he’s referring to our lovely favorite-positions talk. “I don’t want you to give your number to another guy, and I especially, really, truly don’t want to help you pick out a dress.”
My back hits the wall, and I know that I can’t run from my feelings anymore. I’m cornered. Literally. He keeps leaning in, and just before his mouth can touch mine, he stops.
“Not if I can’t be the one tearing it off of you.”
