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“Excuse me? Am I really hearing this?”
“That depends.” I face him head-on, hands on my hips. “Because you can't have it both ways.”
“What does that mean?” He mimics my posture, which leaves me grinding my teeth. I’m not going to take the bait and let my anger get in the way, though. This is much bigger than a petty squabble.
“It means you can't tell me what to do. Either the two of us are in a relationship and we're open about it or I'm going to see other guys. You can't expect me to wait around for the rest of my life. What, should I join a convent? I'd have to convert first, you know.”
“Where is this coming from?” He's looking at me like he's never seen me before, and somehow that only makes things worse. Like he never expected me to have actual feelings or any desires of my own.
Like I don't have needs as a person.
“It's coming from reality. I meant what I said. I can't spend the rest of my life waiting around for you to decide it's okay for us to be together. Either we are a thing or I'm free to live my life. It's up to you.”
I'm shaking and starting to sweat by the time I turn around on my heel, then march up the steps the way Liz did. My heart wants me to stop, to go back to him and pour out the truth.
I don't want to see anybody else. Those boys don't mean anything. Nobody means anything to me but him because I've only ever wanted him. I can't even think of anybody I had a crush on throughout high school because I was too busy wanting him. Loving him.
Sometimes, though, you have to get super uncomfortable in the moment instead of being a little uncomfortable for the rest of your life. It hurts to see him like this, but maybe this is what he needs. He's never going to make up his mind unless I force his hand, and that's what I'm doing now.
Eventually, he'll have to accept the fact we're meant to be together. Maybe this is the push he needs to see what life could be like if he stays on the fence.
I have to believe that, or else I just hurt him—and me—for no reason.
CHAPTER7
NOLAN
This is for the best.
She deserves a life of her own.
Someone her own age, the way it's meant to be. I'm an old man, at least compared to her.
This is the way her life should be. Dating and boys and all that happy horseshit.
I can tell myself whatever I want, but it will never work. I’ll never stop wanting to smash every plate in the kitchen cabinets while she’s on a date.
I don't have to like it, but this is best for her. If I care about Rose, I have to care about what she needs the most.
One day, she’ll want a future.
So what if it feels like I'm being flayed alive as I pace the first floor like a caged animal?
I can't think about anything but her, sitting with some boy, laughing at his jokes, and letting him touch her. I don't know who he is, but I know he doesn't deserve to be in her presence, much less to touch her and flirt and get the wrong idea.
Because not one man on earth wouldn't get that same idea after spending half a minute with her. Her body, luscious and tempting—who could resist? I was that age once. I know how a young man's mind works.
Hell, I'm no better, and I'm more than twice their age.
What if she decides to date him? That I'm not worth waiting for? Fuck. I can’t pretend that would be for the best. Not when I need her as much as I need oxygen. Not when she is mine.
I need to piss or get off the pot, but I can't seem to get my dick and my head on the same page. I know what's right, but it doesn’t feel right. I’m miserable, enraged, ready to kill.
My fists clench and unclench with every step back and forth across the house. No little boy could do to her what I have. She’ll never be satisfied. They wouldn't know the first thing about how to handle her, probably pumping away, oblivious to anything but themselves.
I'm supposed to stay here and let that happen? Just stick around here and wait for some piece of shit to think he's entitled to her body?
I can hardly see straight. Rage clouds my thoughts as well as my vision, rage and something else. Something even darker, deeper, seething.
