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She didn’t.
She never came, and my phone never lit up with any kind of response.
She might not have read it. When I pushed the envelope under the door, there was a hair dryer running inside, so I knew she was awake. But that doesn’t mean she saw it.
She could still be sleeping, blissfully unaware that I’ve left a piece of paper on her bedroom floor that I’ve bled all over. Not literally, that would be fucking weird, but metaphorically.
When I wrote that letter after Jade left on Monday night, I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually be brave enough to give it to her. But then after she sent me away last night like I was nothing more than a glorified sex toy—there’s something I never thought I’d be bothered by—it felt right.
She needs to know that things have changed for me. That my intentions with her have changed.
Okay, so I might not be getting down on one knee and offering her forever anytime soon, but also, I know that I’ve been lying to myself about what we are. About how much I enjoy spending time with her.
I’ve already lost too much. I’m only hurting myself by continuing down that self-destructive path, denying myself what I want. What I need.
The minutes tick by as I sit there replaying the events of the middle of the night in my head, from waking up remembering why I freaked out quite so epically on Friday night to being told by Brianna, again, that we were done.
I didn’t want to believe it when she turned her back on me in the hospital on Monday night, and I still don’t want to now. But it feels more final this time. Like she really meant it.
If only she could have sucked me off first…
No.
I chastise myself for that thought.
You’re meant to be starting over, Nico. Treating her like she deserves.
My phone startles me when the alarm starts blaring, letting me know that I really need to get my arse out of bed if I want to make it to school on time today.
“Fuck it,” I grunt, throwing the covers back and padding toward the bathroom.
Every step is hard work, and there’s this new ache in my chest that I’m not used to. But I shove it all aside in an attempt to tick off one of those two things I wrote in that letter.
I will prove myself. One way or another, I will do it and step into my dad’s shoes.
* * *
“You can wipe that smirk off your face,” I mutter when I stalk into the common room an hour later to find a knowing grin on my boy’s face.
Yeah, there was no way he wouldn’t have heard what was going on in his guest room last night.
“Bro, the fucking walls were vibrating,” he announces happily, earning us the attention of Alex and Seb, whose heads whip around faster than I’m sure they should.
“She let you back in her good books, man?” Seb asks while Alex’s eyes narrow in concern.
“No, I wouldn’t say that. Got back in her pussy though.”
“She must have been feeling desperate,” Seb teases.
“Prick,” I grunt as I fall onto the sofa next to Toby.
“For someone who got laid, you’re not exactly happy,” Alex points out.
“I never said anything about getting laid,” I mutter. “Only one of us saw heaven.”
“Uh-oh,” Seb laughs. “It was that kind of night. Dog house fucking sucks,” he says knowingly. “Never known blue balls like it.”
Thankfully, Theo emerges with his arm slung around Emmie’s shoulder and the two of them steal Alex and Seb’s attention.
