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A part of me had known the truth but hearing her admit it was gutting.
“Do you still feel like that?”
“No… I mean, I’m not suicidal, Xander. That’s not what this is. But in that moment, I just wanted… I wanted to un-exist.”
“Come here.” I tugged her braid gently and she shuffled closer, burying herself into my side. I slipped my arm around her shoulder and held her tightly. “If you ever feel like that—”
“I don’t. Not like that night. But sometimes things build up inside me and it feels like I might explode.” She pressed a hand to my chest and peeked up at me. “I cut myself.”
“What?” It came out harsh, her confession shredding something deep inside me.
She flinched. “It was only once…” Panic etched into her expression. “I-I needed to know what it felt like. What she felt… I needed to understand.”
“Peyton, that’s…” I didn’t know what the hell it was. But it didn’t sound good.
“I haven’t done it again. I felt… God, I felt so ashamed afterward. But there was something else. This… this great sense of relief. Like all the pent-up frustration and emotion had a way out.” Tears collected in the corner of her eyes. “I can understand how people chase that feeling again and again.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Without thinking, I curved my arm around her neck and pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her head. “But I think you need to talk to someone, a professional…”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Yeah?” I jerked back.
“Yeah. I wasn’t ready before… but I think I’m ready now.”
I leaned down, touching my head to hers. “You’ve got so much to live for, Peyton.”
“Yeah?” She curled her hand into my sweater, anchoring us together. Her vanilla lip balm taunted me as the air turned thick around us.
“Peyton,” I whispered, “this is a bad idea.”
“A terrible idea.” Her mouth curved as she moved closer, ghosting her mouth over the corner of mine.
“If I kiss you—”
“You don’t have to kiss me,” she said, sliding her hand to my jaw and pressing a finger against my lips. My body was a tightly coiled spring, rigid beside her. If she kissed me…
Fuck.
My control was slipping. Her scent, her silky blonde hair brushing my cheek, her fingers twisted into my sweater… I was barely holding on. Yet, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do the right thing. Ensnared by her words, her touch.
“Peyton…” It came out ragged as I tried to drag air into my lungs. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, catching the tip of her finger. She smothered a moan, her eyes growing hooded as her gaze darted from my mouth to my eyes and back again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Heat curled down my spine, a direct line to my dick which strained behind my jeans, desperate to feel her.
I was in so much fucking trouble.
“I just want to try something,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief.
Gingerly, she rose up on her knees and straddled my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare breathe. Watching as she settled on me and leaned back in to touch her head to mine. Her fingers toyed with the ends of my hair, the way I had done earlier with her braid.
“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
Laughter rumbled in my chest as I choked out, “I can’t believe you just said that.” My arm curled around her waist, pulling her closer. Peyton’s lips parted on a gasp.
“That’s… better.” She smothered a giggle.
