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“If you want to fuck, then don’t give me a half-ass pity fuck, Archer. I’m not a toy. Fuck me the way you drink. The way you used to get mad at me. Fuck me like you shot smack, desperate to forget the pain.” The words stab me in the heart, but she’s right. She does know me. “Fuck me the way you feel, all of it, good, bad, hot, ugly, and everything in between. Because that’s you.” She’s slurring, angry, spitting the words out at me as she takes tiny steps closer, stabbing the air with her forefinger. “Under that calculated mask you put on every day lately is the guy who laughed at my silly jokes and shared his past and ordered a chef from the mainland only to pretend that it was nothing and that you do this for everyone. If it’s over, I don’t need your half-ass seconds.”
“So, for once, you don’t want to fuck?” I try to say it as bitterly as I can, though my entire body feels like it’s twisted in pain. This is rejection.
“I don’t want a pity fuck from you. Or another hate fuck. I’ve had those.”
“So what do you want?”
Her eyes are so beautiful, with pools of tears and so scared. I can tell. She’s afraid she’ll let her guard down and say something that’ll shatter her image of the unapologetic tough girl that she is.
She’s more than that. And I want it all. But I’m the last person she’ll open up to. And that’s what makesusimpossible.
The silence between us is becoming too tense. It’s our enemy. Everything that should be said always drowns in silence.
I wait for her to say what I want to hear. She waits for me to say something else. I could tell her that she’s my madness. That I’m obsessed beyond any logic. That trying to drive her out of this place seems like the only cure but also feels devastating.
But Kat is silent too. Maybe she has nothing to say—I quote—to a selfish prick who doesn’t deserve people loving him.
The words are still hurtful, echoing in my mind and in her gaze.
“Right,” I say quietly, nodding, and turn around.
The walk toward the door is heartbreaking.
Just like her walking away from me the night of Cece’s party.
Not a sound comes from her as I open the door and walk out of her bungalow.
18
KAT
Gone.
He’s gone.
I’m such a coward.
Desperation sends my pulse through the roof when I finally pull myself out of my stupor and rush toward the door, outside, and up the path toward the road.
“Archer!”
I stop, staring into the darkness for any sign of him, my heart pounding in my ears.
I’m so messed up and so, so scared that I lost my last chance with him.
“Archer,” I whisper, willing him to come back.
Tears start streaking from my eyes, and I run my hands over my hair, trying to hold back the emotions.
It’s hard to breathe. Sobs suffocate me. Tears won’t stop as I stand here on the loneliest night of my life, the scariest too, topped only by the night of Archer’s incident.
A lone parrot screeches in the trees. There’s a muffled beeping sound coming from behind me. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm my heart which seems to pulsate through my entire body.
I turn around slowly and walk toward the lit-up porch, staring at my bare feet, wiping my face, and see—
His feet…
My eyes slowly rise, following the body,hisbody, and I stare in shock at Archer, who leans against the side of my bungalow, arms crossed at his chest as he gazes back at me. He pushes off the wall and steps toward the door, holding it open for me, his eyes never leaving mine.
