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The flower suddenly makes sense. As if telling me to be strong will justify what he's doing. “You think you’re doing me a favor, is that it? You think leaving me behind is better than just plain leaving?”
“I think…”
“I’m telling you I'm willing to try, but you’ve made it clear that you don’t want to have any part of it.” I cut him off. “Was this the plan all along? Have a taboo fling with your stepsister before you head off to your next conquest?”
“The plan was to not fall for you at all.” He closes his eyes and leans his head against the headboard.
“Please. Spare me the ‘I couldn't help myself bullshit.'”
“You know that I couldn’t. I tried to keep us from this, but it was borderline impossible, even though I knew it was wrong.”
“So glad I got to be your mistake.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, the only defense I have against his words.
“Dammit, Sawyer.” He turns his head to look me in the eye. “You’re not a mistake. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You just happened at the wrong time.”
“There isn’t a perfect time, but that shouldn't matter.”
“It does.” He swallows.
“What happened to wanting me as much as football?” I ask softly, my eyes drifting to his on their own accord.
“I realized how selfish it is to want both right now.”
“What’s all this ‘right now’ stuff? It was always about the future, not right now.”
“I used to think that, then today I realized we got caught up in the ‘right now.’ Every time we said ‘just this once’ we ignored the future or excused it by saying it’s only a few years away. But as much as you want to convince me it’s two years, as much as you try to convince yourself that, it’s not. It’s two yearsthis time. After you graduate wemighthave a two year window before I go somewhere else, and chances are I won’t have any say in where I go. Then it’s another two years on top of that before you’re out of college. Do the math. It's years before we'll be in the same place again.”
“I could always transfer schools, do online courses…”
“You don’t even know what you want to do, how can you make a plan like that? Don’t you see? If we stay together now, you’ll livemylife, not yours.” He reaches for my hand again, and despite my anger I let him hold it. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up your dreams–even if you don’t know what those are yet.”
“You didn’t have a problem with that before.”
He stares at our joined hands, careful not to look at me.That's odd. “I told you, I was being selfish.”
“I thought you were thinking about us. Aboutourlife.” I sniff. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is. One day.” His glassy eyes give me hope I can change his mind.
“If that were true you could make it happen now. You’d trust me enough to be part of this decision instead of making it for me.” No amount of blinking can hold back the tears now.
“This has nothing to do with trust, Sawyer. I don’t want my plans to become your plans because you’re willing to go where I go.” He wipes the tears away.
“Wow.” I shove his hand away. “You haven’t even got to campus and your ego is showing. I guess I should have expected that.”
“My ego?”
“Yeah, the thing that leads you to believe I’d follow you around like a lost puppy instead of balancing what I want with where you are. I thought you were the rare athlete who didn’t have one. Thanks for correcting me. Message received. I won’t chase you.” The tears are still flowing, more from anger now than hurt. How did I misjudge him so badly?
“Sawyer, that’s not…”
“Not what you mean? It’s what you implied. I guess being sort of an introvert I gave you the impression that I was dependent on you, but I’m not. And I won’t be. You can go now.” I stand and walk to the door.
“Sawyer.” He jumps up and follows me. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go. I just…” He rubs his jaw. “It’s late, we’re both tired. I should’ve waited until tomorrow to bring this up. I have training first thing and after that I’m coming straight here. We’ll talk more.”
When I don’t speak, he leans forward to kiss me. I turn my head so he hits my cheek. With a frustrated sigh he retreats to his room.
I close the door and sink to the carpet, too weak to make the few steps back to bed. Instead, I crawl, burying my head in the pillow to muffle my crying. It may feel like Wes is a million miles away right now, but my pride won’t let me forget he’s across the hall, and he doesn’t deserve to hear my heartbreak.
