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“That I’m not being stupid. That I’m not imagining things.”
“I don’t understand,” he tells me then. “This could mess up our friendship. Why would—”
“Because I’m in love with you!” The words fall from my lips before I have time to consider them. And I find I don’t want to stop them from escaping because he needs to know. If we’re going to be at the same college, possibly living together, he needs to know.
I don’t think I can go another day, let alone another four years watching him with random girls who he discards the moment he’s done. Each time I watch him with them, I find one who I end up hurting. I break their hearts because I don’t want them. I want him.
Sorin pushes to his feet, and I expect him to rush from the house before calling me something vile. I don’t know why I think it. He’s never been mean to me. He’s never hurt me. But he doesn’t run away. He stands in front of me. We’re head to head, the same height, similar builds. With his training, he’s built lean muscle, which has every inch of his flawless skin toned to perfection.
“You can’t love me,” he tells me in a pained whisper. He’s lived with rumors his whole life. Kids at school call him a freak, a weirdo. They don’t accept him because he doesn’t fit their idea of normal. I know he’s loved me for our whole lives. I could see it when he looked at me, but he never once made a move. I waited. I watched. And yet, he held back. But there’s no longer time to hold back. I can’t have our brand-new lives at college start without him knowing he’s my home.
I recall the first time I ever saw him, my heart stuttered. I had never felt that before. I was young, but there was something about this boy that made me want to know him. I craved to learn all there was to know about him. And that’s how we became friends. It’s how we fell into a routine of friendship. But it was never enough for me.
Each year as we got older, the feelings I had for him only grew. They deepened to a point of actual pain. Acute, heart-wrenching agony. Because even though we each had girls in our lives at one time or another, it was only always him.
“Why?” I ask him, my voice low, barely audible, but I know he can hear me. He’s always heard me. Even when I didn’t say a word. He was my salvation in a time when I didn’t think I needed it. My parents wouldn’t accept me for who I am, but he will. I know he will. And it’s not because he feels these emotions as well. It’s because he loves me unconditionally.
“Because it’s wrong.”
“To who?”
He glances up, his eyes locking on mine, holding me in this time and space. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. “Everyone.”
“But you?” I challenge because I need him to admit it. I have to know how he feels. Even though I’ve noticed his glances, his smiles, the jealousy that flickers in his gaze when he sees me with someone else. I have to hear the words.
Sorin shakes his head. “We can’t do this,” he tells me. “What if—”
“I’ve spent my life thinking what if,” I insist. “Why can’t I have what I want?” I’m showing my spoilt ways now. I’ve always gotten everything I’ve ever asked for. Nothing was out of budget. But him. He was never for sale, and no amount of money would ever get me the love of the boy I grew up with.
“And you think I want to stop you from having it?” he challenges as he reaches to cup my face. Gently, he trails his fingertips over my lips. It’s soft, affectionate. “Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off imagining these fucking lips wrapped around my dick?”
“This isn’t—”
“And do you even realize how many times I wanted you to tell me you love me and not those girls?” His question hits me right in the chest. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t think about how he must have felt when I was with him. It’s the same way I hurt when he was with one of those rocker, goth chicks he would fuck. And that’s all it was. There were no emotions because that’s not what Sorin does.
“No,” I tell him honestly. He needs to know that he didn’t make it obvious, and I do realize why he didn’t. Where we live, with our families, we can’t come out and tell them we’re in love. We will be disowned. But now that I’m eighteen, soon-to-be, I no longer care. If my parents want to disown me for who I love, then they must do it. I’ll have to find my own way. But living a lie is no longer something I can do.
“I have,” Sorin says. “And I always will.” His admission makes my chest tighten. “I can’t put you in a position where you have to say something that will ensure you lose your family.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You will,” he insists. “When you start down this road, there is no going back.” The serious expression on his face makes my heart thud against my ribs. He’s right. If I do come out, if I do tell my parents, I can’t ever take it back. They will forever see me differently.
“Kiss me,” I beg him. The plea in my voice is enough to make him shiver. I’ve never seen him so nervous. His hands fist by his sides, as she leans in closer, and our faces are inches apart. The warmth of Sorin’s breath fans my face.
“If I kiss you, you can’t take this back,” he whispers. “If I kiss you, then you’re mine and nobody else’s, contrary to popular belief, I don’t like sharing.” This makes me laugh, and his smirk curls perfectly formed lips that make me ache in all the right places.
I lean forward, my lips feathering his, and before I have time to think about it, Sorin leans in and our lips are now touching. I deepen the kiss, my eyes shut, and my body reacting to the heat from him. He’s always run hotter than most people I’ve spent time with. Being near him is like being near the sun. I’m bound to get burned, but right now, with his tongue dancing along mine, I don’t care.
His hands grip my hips and he pulls me closer. Our bodies aligned so perfectly. Every hard inch of him pressing along mine. Visions of what we could do if we weren’t hindered by clothes pop into my mind, and I groan as I bite down on his tongue before sucking it deeply into my mouth.
His flavor is perfectly him. Mint and cigarettes. Desire and need course through me, but it’s not those I focus on. It’s how my heart aches. I didn’t think you could feel a heartbreak or whatever the damn opposite of that is, but I can.
This isn’t a kiss that tells me he’s done. It’s not a one-off. This is a kiss I’ll remember for a lifetime. And even as he pulls away, I know it may even be a goodbye kiss. I can’t describe it, but there is sorrow, as well as love mingled into the contact.
And then it’s broken.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he tells me. “I don’t even know where we go from here.” The self-assured boy I’ve known for most of my life has never looked more nervous.
