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“You just had to intervene. You thought you were saving me, but you were just making everything worse!”
“How exactly didImake things worse?” he shouts back.
“It was your shirt on the space heater! It was because ofyouI got in that fight today andyouwho all the guys on the team saw me touching. And now all of those guys saw you here with me,” I say, gesturing toward the road where the assholes drove off.
For the record, I know I'm being insanely irrational. I know Thomas can’t actually be to blame for any of this, but this week has turned into a wildfire, and he was the one who lit the match.
“You realize none of that is actually my fault, right?” he asks in a cool tone.
“You don’t understand, Thomas! This is why I don’t even try. This is why I don’t get along with people because they turn into assholes like those guys, and no matter how hard I try, the minute I let my guard down and think for one second that everything will be okay, it turns to shit! I wish you had never walked into my life in the first place.”
He grinds his teeth together and glares at me. The hurt on his face destroys me because just ten minutes ago, I held him in my arms and everything feltso good.And I’m ruining it. No, I’m sabotaging it. I’m making sure that there is no trace of hope left.
“You know...it’s not actually gone to shit just because one bad thing happens, Pax. And is everyone finding out who you really are so bad? Is it so bad if they know that the person you’re with is me?”
“It was never going to work,” I reply darkly.
“I guess not.” The surrender in his voice hurts like hell.
It’s silent as he stares at me, anger and confusion on his face.
“Just go home, Thomas.”
“Why? Because things were good?” I wish he was as used to disappointment as I am because I can hear the emotion in his voice.
“I’m not going to be your fuck boy to boost your fragile ego,” I yell, and I regret every single word. It’s almost impossible to force the words out, but it’s better this way. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he gets over me and realizes this was nothing more than a short fling. I don’t want to admit feelings were involved or that I spilled every dark secret to him. I’d rather just pretend none of it happened at all.
I’m such a coward, I can’t even look at him as he gives one last pissed off glare and spins to walk away. I ignore the sound of his car driving away as I call 9-1-1. And as I sit on the curb, waiting for the truck and my boss to show up, I try to pretend none of this happened. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the lonely, pissed-off life I lived just four days ago, but I know there’s no chance of that happening now.
12
THOMAS
Two weeks later
“Ibrought you something,” a cheerful voice sings from the doorway of my classroom after it’s emptied. I’m lingering to grade papers and sulk.
“What is it?” I ask, sounding entirely too depressed. “And I swear if you say Pumpkin Spice Latte...so help me…”
“Full fat, extra-whip Pumpkin Spice Latte with a caramel drizzle.”
Everly dances her way down the aisle with two large coffees in her hands, and I can’t help but at least crack a small smile as she sets one on the table in front of me.
“These are disgusting,” I say, cracking the lid and taking a whiff. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve become a serious buzzkill these past two weeks. She knows I hate PSLs but will indulge in at least one a week from September to December. I call it corporate brainwashing. She calls it a sugar and caffeine addiction. Either way, they’re terrible.
“Thank you,” I say, licking up the cinnamon-dusted whip cream.
“You’re welcome.” She pulls up a chair and sits on the opposite side of my desk. “So... big plans this weekend?”
“Not even a little bit,” I reply. “You?”
“The guys have an away game Saturday. I think we’ll be ordering pizza and hanging out at home tonight. You should come over.”
Tilting my head at her, I send her an unimpressed glare. She’s been trying to get me to come overcasuallyevery damn night since the incident with Pax. Why? Because Pax has been taking up residence in their guest bedroom since the fire, and apparently hasn’t been in too good of a mood either. She tells me how he sulks and how Cullen is tired of the way he’s been playing in their games, like a giant, stoned elephant—his words, not mine. I can’t seem to get her to understand that that’s just who Pax is. He is more comfortable in misery because it’s what he’s used to. I tried to pull him out of it once, and he didn’t appreciate it.
“Call me when they leave,” I say, and I can feel her disappointment permeating the air like bad perfume.
“You know...you did try to warn me,” I say, glancing up at her over my coffee. “You told me not to get emotionally invested.”
