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“Because that’s all I’m good for, is that it? You don’t want to stopfuckingme as long as no one knows about it. Why? Because you’re embarrassed to be with me? Because you think I’m not good enough for you?”
“I never said that.”
“But you did. Maybe just not in so many words.”
“Or maybe you’re putting words into my mouth.” His nostrils flare.
“Am I?” I challenge. “Fine.” I set my cup on the ground and stand, turning to lean against the porch railing so I can look at him head on when he answers my next question. “Then tell me, why? Why can’t we tell Brennon? Why can’t we give this thing a real shot?”
“Do you hear yourself?” He throws his hands up in the air as he stands. “Brennon is your brother. My best friend. Do you really think he’d be okay with this?”
“If it made us happy, yes, I do.” Brennon may be protective but at the end of the day I know he just wants me to be happy.
“He knows me too well to ever be okay with this, Barlow. Because he knows what you seem to be trying to convince yourself isn’t true.”
“And what’s that?”
“That in the end I’ll only hurt you,” he says, defeat riddled throughout his words. “Do you really think I’m even remotely capable of being the kind of man you need?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Well, then you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t be that man for you. I don’t want to be.”
“You don’t...” The words die on my lips because I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. “So that’s all this was then, huh? Just fucking.”
“Yes.” His tone tells me that much should’ve been obvious.
“And everything else. All the time we spent together, none of that meant anything?”
“It meant we’re friends. Fuck, B! I thought we were on the same page.”
“Same page?” I bark out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure we’re not even reading the same book.”
“Barlow.” He blows out a slow breath and takes a step toward me. “Can we not do this right now? We’ve both been drinking. Let’s just go back inside and have some fun.”
“And by have fun you mean find a room to fuck in. Yeah, I’m starting to see my mistake here.” I turn, prepared to walk away when Atlas’s hand closes around my bicep, hauling me backward.
Spinning me around, he presses me against the house, the brick cold against my skin.
“Get off of me,” I grind out, my voice low.
“Don’t do this, Barlow,” he says almost pleading.
“Don’t do what? Ask for what I want?” Tears burn my eyes but not a single one falls.
“Ask for what you want? What is it that you want? What do you think that I can give you?”
“You. I want you,” I say unapologetically.
“You have me.” His hand snakes into my hair, holding my head in place so that I can’t look away. “You have me.”
“Not in the way that I want.” I swallow hard. “I don’t just want you for sex, Atlas, I want all of you.”
“Then you want something I can’t give.”
