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“And the other guy?”
“Just some guy that goes to school here.”
“So were you dating him or casually hooking up?”
“Oh my god, Alec.” I wipe a hand over my face. “Why do you want to know this?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I do.”
“We were seeing each other for a few months. It wasn’t super serious.”
“And what happened?”
“I ended things a few weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted more and I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“What do you meanwhy?”
“Why didn’t you want more? Because you don’t like him or because he isn’twhoyou want?”
Now I get it.The reason for all these questions. It’s his roundabout way of asking me if I’m still in love with him. Which I already admitted to earlier, just maybe not in so many words.
“You already know the answer to that,” I tell him, answering him without actually answering him...again.
“Hope.” He reaches across the table, his hand settling over mine.
I so badly want to let myself feel it. To let every emotion I’ve buried come soaring to the surface, but I know I can’t. Because if I do, if I let him back in, I’ll be forced to mourn the loss of him all over again.
Alec Murray is like an addiction. Once he gets into your blood stream, he’s all you want, all you can think about, until he’s utterly consumed every part of you. I barely survived the withdraws the last time around. I’m not sure I’d survive it a second time.
You know what they say about addicts. They’re more likely to overdose after a long time without using because they overestimate how much their bodies can take.
Alec ismydrug. And I can’t relapse now. Not after I’ve come so far.
“It’s getting late.” I pull my hand away. “We should probably get going. I have a lot I still need to do before class in the morning.”
“Okay.” He nods, his expression stoic. “I’ll go pay the check.” With that, he slides from the booth. Without another word, he heads to the front counter.
