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When I’d danced I’d felt tall in every sense of the word. I wasn’t meek, I wasn’t intimidated. I was powerful, strong, untouchable. Right now I’m just a girl who has nothing left to fight with. My energy is depleted, my will to fight dwindling. My proverbial bucket is empty.
I’m quivering witheverything, because now that I’ve let my emotions out, there’s no shoving them back in. There’s nothing I can do to stop him, to stopthis.
“Don’t,” I whisper. Ibeg, actually. There’s no misinterpreting my plea. I don’t want to be raped. I don’t want him to hurt me that way, and I’m fully aware there’s still a chance that might happen. Maybe not here, not now, but later when Grim can’t step in to stop it, when I’m left alone with the Breakers and Jeb.
“You and I will take this uplater.” Zayn guts me with his harsh words and my throat tightens on a sob that I force back down into my curdling stomach.
“Please. No—” I respond in a shaky voice, but he cuts me off, stepping into my space and grasping the back of my head roughly.
“Later!” he growls, then kisses me hard. Hard enough to bruise my lips, hard enough to make me quake with fear. His fingers dig into my scalp, tugging on my hair so tightly my scalp prickles with the sharp pain. I whimper, my hands automatically pushing against his chest, but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping a solid arm around my back. It doesn’t stop him from sliding his whisky-coated tongue into my mouth and it doesn’t stop him from pressing every inch of his body against mine, holding me close. He’s hard, turned on, and I hate him for it. I hate him because a part of me, the part I’ve buried for the past three years, longs for him.
I’velongedfor this kiss.
But not like this.
A sob rises up my throat. Another time I would’ve responded differently,passionately.
But it’s all I can do to stop the tears from falling and my heart from shattering into a million tiny pieces like a jewel bludgeoned with a hammer. The shards rip at my internal organs, cutting me up in a way I never knew was possible. I’m too weak to fight him off. Weak both physically and emotionally. So I let him kiss me. I stand stiff, unresponsive as he kisses me to prove some kind of point. His teeth clack against mine in anger. His tongue delves inside my mouth, stroking, searching, seeking out a response. God, I try so hard not to respond. I cling onto the hate because if I succumb, if I let him in, if I really lean into his touch like I’ve craved for so long, then I’m no better than him or any of these men and women who’ve allowed their weaknesses to take hold tonight.
Right here, right now. I’m making another point.
I don’t want to be that girl who crumbles because of one kiss, no matter how talented the kisser, or how much her heart has longed for this moment.
I don’t want to be that girl who forgives because the man she loves is kissing her with a passion that ignites all the things that are wrong between them, and burns them to the ground.
I never wanted our first kiss after all this time apart to be like this, to happen in a place like this. I’ve imagined every other possible scenario, but notthis.
But just like Xeno did on the dancefloor in Rocks, Zayn takes, and I let him.
Just this once, I let him.
Eventually, he pulls back. Emotions rush beneath his gaze, too fast for me to decipher, to unravel in the moment. I’m drawn into his gaze, a dangerous vortex that spins with too much feeling. My breathing hitches, my eyes well with tears that I blink back fiercely because Zayn isn’t looking at me with emptiness, with hate or anger.
He looks at me with longing, with fuckinghope.
That look is the final straw, and my knees buckle again. They fucking buckle and internally I’m cursing myself for my physical weakness. Like a newborn foal, my legs wobble with exertion. Zayn hoists me up, steadies me. Worry replaces the hope in his gaze and with infinite care, he brushes his lips against my cheek and rests them against my ear, his body curving over mine as he crowds me. To anyone else watching us, this is the move of a dominant man, someone who’s used to overpowering another. To everyone in this room bar the Breakers, this is one man taking ownership of someone deemed less powerful, weaker than he is. But I know better. The change is subtle, but unmistakable. When his fingers release their death grip on my hair, and he cups my head gently, his thumb rubbing over the spot that tingles still, I know that he’s trying to break down the wall between us even though it’s three years thick. I’m not certain I trust his motives, but I do feel the honesty in his actions and that gives me pause for thought. It gives me a little of my strength back.
“I’m sorry, Pen,” Zayn whispers against my ear, his voice croaking with emotion, with a truth that crushes me because I hearhim. I hear Zayn, my best friend, my first love. That kid who’d stood in the playground and watched me dance. That kid who taught me to trust.
“I’m sorry, Pen,” he repeats.
Those three words are more than an apology, they’re a door opening a crack, a route back in, a rickety bridge crossing a deep river of our tumultuous past. I want to question him, to dig deeper, but like always, outside factors prevent me from doing so. My fingers flex against his chest then curl into his shirt, the only sign that I’ve acknowledged his apology. We’re balanced precariously. We’re one wrong word, one wrong move away from slamming that door, from ripping that rickety bridge down.
“Mr Bernard,” Grim prompts, her patience wearing thin.
My hands fall away and Zayn steps back, releasing me from his hold. “Take her home,” he barks at York and Dax before glaring at Jeb and Xeno. “You two. Come with me.”
“Yes,Boss,” Xeno snaps, his eyes meeting mine.
I don’t have the energy to shore up my defences. I let him see how tonight has ruined me and for the briefest of moments his gaze softens, he wobbles on his feet as though he wants to come to me, as though he wants to comfort me. But Jeb nudges his arm and the moment is gone, the walls stack back up.
With my feet rooted to the spot, my lips bruised and my heart thundering, I watch them walk away. Zayn is still pretending to be the leader of the Skins whilst the true leader gives me a look that tells me that this is far from over, that he’s still the one who holds all the cards.
