“I’m sorry, but I can’t be your friend anymore,” I whisper, my voice catching over the words, “and I’m certainly not your girlfriend.”
He flinches beside me, wasting no time when he says, “What the fuck are you saying? You’re mybestfriend, Tatum.”
I say nothing, biting my tongue as I glance away from him. I don’t trust myself to speak any more than I trust myself to look into his eyes and walk away.
“Tate, would you please look at me?”
My stomach sours at the plea in his voice.
I shake my head, a trembling breath escaping when I part my lips. “I can’t do this anymore. Things are changing. I’m going to be transferring next semester, and I’m in a serious relationship, one I see going beyond college. This was bound to happen sooner or later. Assaulting Ethan was simply the final straw because the truth is, we’re not eleven years old anymore, and it’s just not appropriate for us to be spending so much time together. It’s not normal to be this reliant on a friend.”
“Notnormal?” he chokes out. “What the hell are you talking about? We’ve been like this for years. We do everything together. We always have. We read each other’s thoughts, finish each other’s sentences. That’s what best friends do. I get that you have toshare your time now; I do. But that doesn’t mean this,we”—he points between us—“have to end.”
I grit my teeth, saying nothing.
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll give up and go away.
“The Tate I know would never give us up.” Brandon stands, rounding the table until he’s in front of me. Bending over the table, he presses both hands on either side of me, caging me in as my heart bucks wildly in my chest. “Which means he’s making you choose. Admit it.”
“No,” I say, hating the way my voice shakes, the way my pulse quickens.
A low growl rumbles in the back of his throat, tearing through my chest like a wild animal and sinking low in my belly before inconveniently wedging itself between my legs.
He has that look on his face?the one he gets on the football field when he’s hell-bent on an interception. I’ve never noticed how hot he is when he’s pissed, and the timing of it now is inconvenient to say the least.
“Look me in the eye, Tate. Look me in the fucking eye and tell me he’s not the real reason you’re pushing me away?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.” He reaches out, lifting my chin gently with his fingers until our eyes meet.
My gaze drops to his mouth?to the infinitesimal space between us, and my stomach drops.
“Did he give you an ultimatum?” Brandon presses.
I bite my lower lip, hoping he can’t read the answer in my eyes because it’s not like that. Ethan wasn’t trying to control me. He’s not the villain in this story no matter how much Brandon would like him to be. He only wants what’s best for me—for us.
“This is a decision we made together,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Fuck that.”
My hands shake as I drop my paintbrush on the table. I can’t breathe with him looking at me like this. Like I’m his whole world, and I’m completely breaking his heart, when all we’ve ever been to each other is friends.
Unable to take any more, I rise to my feet and take a step back, sucking in a lungful of Brandonless air like a beached fish, suddenly thrust back into the water.
“Tate . . .” He reaches out, but I’m already moving.
I make a beeline for the bathroom when his hands spin me around, his gaze searching my face for a solution I can’t give. “He’s all I need,” I say, begging him to stop.
“Is that what he tells you?” he asks, equal parts fear and anger laced in the deep tenor of his voice. “Thatheshould be all you need?”
He makes it sound like a bad thing, like Ethan’s devotion to me is something toxic, rather than something to be cherished.
I shrug his hands off my arms, desperate for an escape. “That’s how relationships work.” The words leave my mouth at the same time my phone rings.
I slide it out, grateful for the distraction when I see Ethan’s name flashing across the screen.
“Answer it,” Brandon says, a knowing look on his face. “I’ll wait.”
