“No.”
He hurt me. Used information I shared with him, information about a vulnerable part of myself, and fucking hurt me with it.
Even Jackson got concerned when I came home, my eyes watery and puffy after Beckett told me he finds the idea of a relationship with metoo much.
He called Eli, who showed up wearing Alexei’s shirt. Like who didn’t see that coming?
It was kinda funny when Jackson got annoyed his two blond friends were moping around in their boyfriends’ clothes.
Only Beckett’s not my boyfriend.
“Get on, now.” Beckett's voice is low, demanding, as he grabs my arm, pulling me closer. But I yank free, taking a step back.
“Leave me alone.”
We stand, staring at one another, the tension between us as thick and suffocating as a vat of molasses in January. I'm not sure why he's here, or what he even wants.
But I do know for once I'm done convincing him to be with me. I want someone to choose me and all my too muchness on their own.
“Chaos, please. I was wrong.” His voice softens, almost pleading, and something in my chest tightens.
“Yeah, you were.”
But so was I, because while I may want Beckett to be mine, he never said he was. I just assumed and then reality slapped me in the face.
“Please, get on the bike.” His voice trembles, and it tugs at something deep inside.
“Fine.”
As I throw my stuff into the car and lock it, Beckett gets the foot pegs in place. I climb on, placing one of my hands on the tank and grabbing my wrist with the other hand, my body instinctively leaning into his.
He pulls his visor down, then we’re off. It's too cold to be riding, and I have no idea why this airhead doesn’t own a regular car, or why we didn’t take my car to wherever the fuck we’re going.
Doesn’t matter, not really, because I miss being this close to him.
When we pull up to his apartment, I’m relieved. Mostly because I can’t stop shivering. Seriously, this idiot needs to buy a regular car.
Once inside, I take off my sneakers and just stand there, hands in the pockets of my jeans.
Beckett grazes his thumb across my cheek. “Fuck, you’re cold. Come here.”
He pulls me against him, then wraps his arms around me before lifting me and walking to the couch. He sits with me still in his lap, then grabs the throw blanket and drapes it across us both.
“I’m not a child.”
“Sure about that?”
I sit up, eyes narrowed. “Really? You—”
“Stop. I was just trying to make a joke. Obviously, it was in poor taste.”
“No shit.”
He sighs and holds my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for how you feel. I was being overdramatic because I didn’t get what I want.” When he blinks a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a dumb fish, I roll my eyes. “I’m self-aware enough to know how I act, even if I choose to continue doing so.”
“Not sure how to respond to that.”
