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The school parking lot isn’t exactly private.
“You did earlier,” I remind him.
I know I made my case when a sigh leaves his lips.
“You’re right, that was shitty of me.”
Shitty?
Dude, you tore my heart to pieces.
“I’m sorry.” He holds my stare. “And not just for today. I’ve been hiding since the night you kneed me in the fucking balls.”
I wait for him to carry on.
“I’m a coward, Dia.” He exhales. “I’ve spent ten years of my life pretending like my heart was rotting at the bottom of Lake Belmont with my mom.”
I suck in a breath at his admission.
This is the first time he’s brought her up while sober.
“I did everything I could to convince people it drowned with her that day. And it worked. Too well, actually. Because I started believing it, too.”
You could hear a pin drop in the school lot.
Most kids have dispersed, but the cheer squad and the basketball team decided to park their asses in front of the school and enjoy the show. Finn’s not loud enough for them to hear him, but that doesn’t mean those nosey bastards aren’t trying.
“Then you showed up one day, shoved your fist through my chest, and pulled that shit out. You reminded me I had a heart, Dia, but I didn’t realize how beat up and damaged it was until you walked away from me this morning.”
My throat feels like it’s being squeezed.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… it’s not going to be easy. I’m probably going to hurt you, and sometimes you’re going to call me an asshole and we’re going to fight, but fuck, for once in my life, I want to fight. I want to fight until we get it right.”
I can’t speak.
“Fight for me, Gem. And I promise to fight like hell for you.”
I only realize I’m crying when salty tears slide down my lips.
“What… What does this mean? I… Do you want to date?”
His hands clutch my face, and he drills his gaze into mine.
“I don’t know what to call it. I mean, just two months ago, I couldn’t even fathom wanting to be with someone. This is all so fucking new to me, but I think… I think if you give me time, we’ll figure it out.”
So many thoughts spin around in my head, the primary one being that I don’t really have a choice.
I can’t walk away from this.
From him.
I just… can’t.
And it may not be perfect, but he’s trying, which is more than he’s ever done for anyone.
“Wait, so, we’re not dating?” I ask.
“Not technically, but if you ask me, we don’t need the fucking label.”
