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Ugh, do you hear yourself?
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he says dryly. A beat passes, then, “And I told you, you could have the couch. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s fine. It’s just one more night. I really don’t mind.” And I mean it. Will’s parents’ king size bed provides plenty of room for Ivy, Phoebe, and I.
Sure, it’s not ideal. Ivy’s a notorious blanket hog, and Phoebe sleeps like a hyperextended starfish. But when faced with the choice between fighting for a sliver of mattress or sleeping inches away from a half-naked Mason…Well, it was a no-brainer.
The pencil still wedged between my fingers creaks with how rigid my hold is. Easing my grip, I let it roll toward my stomach and flex my fingers, working out some of the stiffness.
“You working on a proj—”
“You should go back inside.”
Mason stills, straightening, his shoulders drooping.
Shit.I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.
Cringing, I rub my fist over my sternum. He hangs his head, staring down at his hands, and a sinking feeling forms in my chest, speeding up my pulse.
Double shit.
“Mason,” I say quietly, my voice cracking.
“I hate this.”
Throat tight, all I can do is stare at him.
Whirling suddenly, he spears me right in the fucking heart with those painfully beautiful ice-blue eyes. “Can’t we just…” He waves a shaky hand. “Forget. For one night, please?”
There’s a sort of desperate air to him, unmistakable and nauseatingly familiar. I didn’t notice it when he first walked out, but now…
Hell, he reeks of it.
“I know I have no fucking right, I never did—I see that now, and I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry, J-Jeremy. This is all my fault, and I know you’re sick of my apologizing, but I—I don’t know what else to say to you to make this better.”
That pit in my chest sinks even lower, caving in on itself with every broken utterance slipping from his lips.
A silent plea shines back at me from that bottomless gaze. “I miss you.”
What little repairs I’ve done to my heart give out, just like that. The poorly, hastily stitched seams to put myself back together pop open, my heart too big, too desperate to be contained.
“I need you,” he says brokenly.
I hear what he’s not saying—what he’s asking for without so many words.
I promised myself,I think dimly, but even the voice in my head carries no fight. I already know this is a losing battle.
“I miss my friend,” he whispers, his lips hardly moving, reddened eyes boring into me.
I flinch. He sees it. I don’t even care.
He already knows. There’s no use trying to bury it anyway.
Maybe if he sees how much those words break me open, he’ll stop. He’ll leave me alone.
He squeezes his eyes shut. Fists balling at his sides. Tipping his head back, he blinks up at the sky, glaring fiercely into the stars like they’ve personally offended him.
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
