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I felt trapped.
“I said I wouldn’t give you any more empty gestures, Skylar. I never said I wouldn’t give you anything at all.” Brandon paced nervously in small circles, pulling his hair with both hands. “Jesus. I can’t do right by you, can I?”
“That’s really not the question.” Could he really not see the power imbalance in this moment? Could he really not see the problem?
“Oh, really? Then what is?”
Brandon stopped and faced me, his hands clasped behind his neck. His face was flushed—he was clearly trying as hard as I was to keep his own emotions in check.
“The question is, when are you going to stop thinking you can buy my affections?”
All the anger that I’d been trying so hard to dissolve outside his door was back in a second, and now I was spitting mad again. Unfortunately, so was he.
“No, thequestionis, when are you going to start accepting mine? I love you, Skylar! Do you hear me? I fucking love you, but you can’t see it past price tags.”
“And I have told you a million fucking times, Brandon, I don’t need or want this kind of extravagance!” I looked at the piano and saw my twisted, livid features reflected in its surface. I smacked my hand down over them as a hot, angry tear slipped down my cheek. “You suffocate me with all of this—you pay for every single date, exorbitant theater and concert tickets. You pay for my dad’s idiotic mistakes and his home care. And now you’re buying me something that costs the same as someone’s house. It’s insane! I could never hope to compete with any of this!”
“It’s not a fucking competition!” Brandon shouted. “God, you’re impossible! I can’t help that I’m rich, Skylar. You want me to stop being successful? You want me to give everything away so all I can do is take you out for pizza and a walk in the park, just like every other poor student in Boston?”
“I’ve told you over and over again—I don’t want your money, Brandon, I just want you! But you never seem to fucking accept that!”
“My moneyisa part of me, Skylar! Why can’tyoufucking acceptthat?”
We seethed at each other, our chests heaving under the pressure of deep breaths and a war’s effort to calm our tempers.
Finally, Brandon was the first to look away. He collapsed onto the couch, his palms open on his knees. He stared at them as if looking for something to materialize from his empty hands.
“I’d give you everything I have if it would convince you I was for real,” he said. “I’d give you my life if it would protect you and your family. This isn’t some trade, Skylar. You love to play, and I love to hear it. Iloveyou. Don’t you see that?”
The break in his voice matched the fissures in my anger. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t some stupid gesture of ego. His words echoed through my heart, over and over again, as I finally heard what he’d been repeating all evening.
Loved. He loved. Me.
A sob choked my throat as I crossed the room and fell to the floor on my knees in front of him. I pulled one of his big hands to cradle my cheek. The rough, warm edges of his fingers curled naturally into the contours of my face.
“I don’t want your whole life,” I cried against his leg.
The last two weeks had been trying enough—I didn’t want to be apart from him. He had so quickly become the one place I felt safe in the world, and I didn’t want to lose that. But couldn’t he see how hard this was? Couldn’t he see how badly I just needed things to be simple with him when the rest of my life was so complicated?
“I just want you,” I whimpered, over and over again. “That’s all. Just you.”
Brandon leaned down to press his lips to my hairline. “Why does it make you so upset? I’m not asking for anything in return.”
I looked up, and his hands cupped my cheeks while he searched my face for a response. His thumbs wiped away my tears.
“Even the smallest gifts never come without strings,” I said. “These kinds of things…” I gestured vaguely toward the piano, “they’re too much.”
“Come here.” His hands dropped to my shoulders to pull me toward him. “Get off your knees. It makes me feel like you’re my servant, which is awful considering the context of this discussion.”
I pushed off my knees and sat next to him on the sofa.
“No,” Brandon said. “I said comehere.”
He tugged my body so that I straddled him, my arms balanced over his shoulders. He kissed me gently, yet thoroughly.
“Let me take care of you, Skylar,” he said. “The way you take care of me.”
“Do I take care of you?” I wondered as I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face.
