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“Ari, that’s not—”
“Because I did that already and you know what? It sucked! I missed out on so much, and I’m not going to do that anymore so you can stop trying to make me feel guilty for choosing to be happy.”
“I want you to choose me!” he screams.
My words evaporate, my body turning to stone on the spot.
His eyes soften, and he comes closer. “I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me.”
My insides swirl, tighten and pull. “Don’t do this.”
“I want you to want me again.”
“Chase.” Everything aches.
“I want you to look at me like you used to.”
“Stop.”
“I want you to pick me,” he whispers, reaching toward my face, but I tip my head, avoiding his touch. “Arianna…”
I shake my head, a nauseating feeling fighting its way through me, but he’s right there.
And then his lips are on mine, pressing, stealing.
Begging.
Pick me…
Stunned, I stand frozen, but my mind shakes me free, screaming no.
Hell no.
That this is wrong.
My hands come up, and I shove him away.
“You… are an asshole.” My voice shakes, tears instantly pouring down my cheeks. “Why would you do that?”
His features pull, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
“I told you I’m with someone, that I’m with Noah, and now you do this?” My words crack.
Chase’s spine straightens. “What am I supposed to do when I feel you slipping away from me.”
“Oh my god.” I swallow beyond the knot in my throat, but all it does is rise again. “I can’t believe you right now. How can you be so selfish?”
Anxious, he reaches for me. “Ari.”
“Don’t.” I jerk back. “For months I sat around wishing you’d show up at my door, knowing in the back of my mind you never would, so don’t stand here and say you felt me slipping away when I was right in front of you for months, years even if you really think about it. You just didn’t see it.”
“I saw you.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “Ari, I see you.”
I clench my jaw, anger slipping over the sadness and burying it.
“Yeah, well, it’s too late.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Yeah, you do.” I swallow, taking backward steps. “You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”
The torment of standing before him is too much, so I walk away.
“I see you, Arianna.” His repeated words are defeated, broken.
While my feet pause in the sand, I don’t look at him, but stare straight ahead at nothing.
“I don’t want to be seen anymore, Chase.” Emotion fights its way up my throat, but I push it down. “I want to be loved.”
Slowly, I begin walking again, tension winding around my muscles with each step, but thankfully, Chase says not a word, and he doesn’t try to follow.
I want to fall to the sand and cry, to scream into the night around me and beg for understanding I’ll never find and that I’m unsure I even want. I don’t do any of those things, though.
I head back to the house, my lungs shriveling when I find Noah sitting on the last step.
He looks up then, and as slow as ever, pushes to his feet, the lanyard his keys are clipped to hanging from his right pocket.
Panic whirls through me, but my feet don’t move.
I shake my head, tears pricking at the back of my eyes, and he tips his head in encouragement.
“He kissed me.” Guilt burns through my veins, and my hand presses against my stomach.
His jaw flexes, but his tone is soft. “And?”
“I didn’t kiss him back. I pushed him away.”
He nods again, dropping his eyes to the sand where he stands, and when they come back up, the uncertainty within them is almost debilitating.
He comes to me, the pads of his thumbs brushing under my eyes, wiping the tears I didn’t realize were falling.
“I pushed him away,” I repeat desperately.
“I know.” He presses his mouth to my forehead, speaking against it. “I know you did.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I pull back, forcing him to look at me. “No. It’s not. Tell me.”
“Come on, Juliet,” he murmurs, the ache in his tone crushing my soul. “I can’t compete here, not when everything you ever wanted is in reach now, just waiting for you to take it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Are you sure?”
My lips clamp shut, but I nod, and all that comes out is his name.
“It’s okay,” he promises.
“No, it’s not.” I take Noah’s hands, pulling them into my chest. “It’s not. He doesn’t get to do this to us.” I shake my head, breathing him in. “I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have gone after him. I should have come back inside with you. I should have left it alone.”
A shadow falls over us, and he strokes my cheek. “Some conversations have to be had. Even if they’re tough.”
