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10
Pen
“What do you really want?” I ask heavily.
“To speak with you,” he responds, stepping back towards me. His shoulders sag, exhaustion pulls at his features. As he moves, his jacket pulls apart and I see what I hadn’t before. I see the dark stain of blood stark against his white shirt. “Zayn, what happened?” I ask, my eyes widening. He’s hurt and even though anger lingers, even though there are things I want to say, that’s all pushed aside for the moment.
“I’m okay,” he replies, pulling his jacket closed hastily and buttoning it up. “It’s just a scratch.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. Whathappened?”
Of course he doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts his hand to cup my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says, as his thumb brushes across my cheekbone. His night-time eyes are filled with a fucking galaxy of emotion, his secrets like shooting stars burning bright and too fast to grab hold of. I snap my head away, out of his hold. He’s too close, too raw, tooemotional.
“Stop.”
“Pen.I’m sorry,” he repeats, and I honestly don’t know what to do with that. Does he want me to just forgive him because he’s apologised? It would be so easy, so simple to do, and for the briefest of moments I consider doing just that. The thing is, we’ve never been simple. We’ve always been complicated, messy. Even when we were kids, our friendship was never straightforward. My love for the Breakers changed things. People say that true love should be simple,easy, but that isn’t true, is it?
Love is chaotic, agonizing, complex.
It’s like DNA, no one really knows the depths of its power or can unravel its mysteries. Love is just there, it’s something that exists and we’re all just a bunch of people either looking for love, are in love, or are heartbroken without it,becauseof it.
“For what, Zayn? What are you sorry for?” I whisper, because saying sorry isn’t enough. It’s too vague, too all encompassing. People say I’m sorry and expect it to be a sticking plaster for every sin they’ve ever committed. People say I’m sorry like it washes away the heinous things they’ve done. It doesn’t. Zayn breathes out heavily, his stubbled jaw tight with stress.
“I didn’t know what Jeb had planned. I’m sorry you were put in that situation. I’m sorry you were scared.”
“Bullshit. I saw the look on your face. You wanted to screw me.”
“No!”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Zayn. I saw the truth in your eyes that night.”
Zayn presses his eyes shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a determined look on his face. “Of course I want you, Pen, I can’t deny that. Look at you, you’re goddamn beautiful and fucking strong, and determined and unafraid. How could I possibly not want to fuck you? But not that way, not like that. I’m many things but I amnota goddamn rapist. Jeb waswrongto do what he did.”
I bark out a laugh to hide my surprise and to deflect the fact my body is betraying me as I step closer towards him wanting more words, more truths. “Is he ever right?”
“I don’t know. You tell me, Pen. You walked away from us to be with him. Has it been everything you hoped for?” he asks me, a sudden sarcasm and vitriol dripping from his tongue. I flinch as though slapped. Zayn’s words hurt, but only because they’re true. I did walk away from the Breakers to be with Jeb but not for the reason he thinks.
“And the others? What about them? Did they know what he had planned? That I was a fucking gift to be served up to you without any say or choice in the matter.”
“Fuck, no! They didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter though, does it? We’re still enemies. I’m still on the outside looking in. I’m still the girl you allhate.”
“I don’t hate you, Pen.”
I laugh bitterly. “You could’ve fooled me.”
“Listen to me,” he says fiercely. “Idon’thate you. I never did. I was angry, hurt, fucking cut-up, but I never hated you. I want to understand. Tell me the truth.”
“I—” I begin, but find I can’t say anything without opening up a whole can of worms. He has a right to be angry, bitter. Then again, so do I. “It’s not that simple—”
“Just fucking tell me, Pen. This is only as complicated as you make it. Put me out of my goddamn misery!” he growls, angry at me, at the situation, atus. “We could always talk, you and me. That was never a problem. What the fuck happened to change that? What you did came out of the left field. You blindsided us, Pen. We were happy. We fuckinglovedyou.” His hands come up once more and his fingers slide into my hair, tightening on the strands.
“I know you did—”
“Is that it? Is that all you can fucking say?I know. You don’t fucking know. You don’t fucking understand what that did to us,” he shouts, his honesty taking wing on the back of anger. It flies around us with frenzied wings and sharpened claws.
“Of course I understand!” I shout back, yanking his hands away and backing off. “You don’t think it hurt me to walk away? You think I haven’t felt every minute of your absence all this time? You think I don’t hurt, that it doesn’t cut me up inside to know the boys I would do anything for never even questionedwhyI did what I did?” I’m panting now, shaking with adrenaline and the truth that is on the tip of my tongue. Zayn opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “No! You don’t get to come in here and throw down like this, not after Friday night, not after what happened. You don’t get to pile on the guilt to make yourself feel better. You don’t get to push me until I break. You don’t get to hurt me like this anymore!”
