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“Sounds good. I’ll have to check in with Mom and Dad and see what their plans are for Aria.”
“Sounds good, man. Looking forward to it.”
Apollo walks away, greeting others in the room because that man doesn’t have a care in the world. He has his wife and son, and life is fucking grand.
As I walk down the hallway toward Ali’s room, I try not to begrudge him of that, but I find it difficult. I would never want something terrible to happen to anyone else the way it has for me, but living just on the outside of everyone’s perfect bubble of happiness takes its toll.
I don’t bother knocking on Ali’s door. What I need to say can’t happen in the hallway, but I find it locked when I try to turn the handle. Pulling out my keys, I use the one to the room, grateful I haven’t returned it to Em yet.
The sound of running water hits my ears when I step in, and although I’d love to see her all slick and soaped up, I drop to the corner of the bed and wait. She all but told me to fuck off last night, and it would be an insane violation to walk in on her when she’s in such a vulnerable state.
I’m half hard and berating myself for having such a reaction to the thoughts in my head when the water turns off. I swallow as a thick cloud of steam follows her into the room when she pulls the bathroom door open.
She jolts at the sight of me in her room uninvited, but she doesn’t say anything.
She watches me watch her as she dries off before draping the towel on the desk chair and walking to her still packed suitcase in the corner of the room. I couldn’t pull my eyes from her amazing body right now if someone had a gun to my head, so I don’t bother trying. She isn’t shy or hiding herself as she dresses, but she’s no longer looking at me either. It hits me that I would much rather have her attention in this moment than the sight of her nakedness.
“Ali,” I whisper, as she pulls a pair of jeans up her legs.
“Yes,” she says, her voice more of a squeak than her normal tone.
“I’m very attracted to you.”
I cringe, knowing that’s probably not the best way to start this conversation, especially after watching her get dressed.
My needy dick has caused enough problems between the two of us already.
“I mean, I like you.”
“Thanks,” she says, sounding decidedly unimpressed with the direction this conversation is going.
“I mean, I care for you.”
She freezes, her hand halfway to her sandals. It’s a tiny jerk of her back, and I don’t know exactly how to read the reaction.
“A lot, actually,” I continue. “But my head is a fucking mess.”
With her back still to me as if she just can’t stand the sight of me, Ali sits in the desk chair, unconcerned that the damp towel is wetting her fresh shirt.
“I feel guilty, like I’m replacing Lana.”
“I’m not trying to replace Lana,” she whispers, her voice sounding broken and pained. “I told you that already.”
“I know,” I quickly agree. “I’m just trying to tell you how I feel.”
“I understand if you’re not ready to move on. I’ve accepted that it may never happen.”
A lump forms in my throat because despite needing to live in the pain and heartache I’ve felt for months after losing Lana, I know I’m already moving on. In fighting it, though, I’ve been hurting Ali at every turn.
“I have to get to work,” she mutters as she stands, her back still to me as she walks toward the door.
“Can’t we talk about this?” I plea, not above begging if that’s what it takes.
She shakes her head, her shoulders curling with a sigh. “I think we’ve said all we need to.”
She turns to face me, her eyes sad but accepting of this situation.
“I understand now what this was, and as much as I hate that it’s left me feeling the way I do, I was an active participant in it, but I can’t be your plaything while you try to figure everything out.” She shakes her head as if she’s still trying to convince herself that she’s saying the right thing. “And on that note, I can’t have you getting jealous when other guys flirt with me. It confuses my head.”
I wonder if asking her to wait for me would be too selfish, because I have no damn clue how long it will take for me to be ready. She may be right. I may never be ready to let go completely of my past and be the man she deserves.
She walks out of the room before I can make up my mind.
