I lean back against the headboard, releasing a breath, and deciding on full transparency. “If I’m being honest, I think I’m relieved. Looking back, there were so many red flags, things I ignored because I wanted it to work more than it actually was working.”
He nodslike this makes sense, then after a moment, he asks, “Why’d you ignore it?”
I think about his question for a moment. There were a lot of good times with Ethan, some real emotion that made ignoring the red flags easier.
“I don’t know.” I toy with the plastic lid of my paper cup, tracing the rim with my fingertip as the truth lodges in my throat. “This sounds so pathetic, but for once in my life I felt wanted, pursued. In the beginning, he was so charming, and he swept me off my feet. He made me feel special, and for a girl who’s never had a guy do that for her before . . .” I shake my head as shame washes through me. “It made it easy to convince myself his love was real and that what I felt for him was bigger than it was.”
A moment of silence follows and then—“Did you love him?”
My gaze jerks to his and I take in his expression—the careful neutrality, the tension around his eyes. The way he’s holding his breath, waiting for my answer as if it matters.
“No,” I breathe, feeling the weight of the truth in my bones.
I remember his words the night we slept together?Let me show you how much I love you?and they pinch in my chest like a burr, because it was never real. Love is never selfish.
“I think I tried to convince myself that I was just taking my time, that I’d get there,” I add. “But now I realize, the whole time I knew something was wrong.” I set my coffee aside with resignation. “Ethan was never the one for me.”
Brandon exhales as if he’d been holding his breath, his posture loosening like he’s relieved by this. “I know I should be sorry, and Iamsorry you’re hurting, but I have to be honest, Tate. I’m glad it’s not him. He wasn’t right for you. Not for a second.”
“I wish I would’ve known that sooner.” I bite my lip, thinking about how much I trusted him, how dumb I’d been, and my anger simmers. “You know what pisses me off the most?”
Brandon, glances over at me, waiting.
“Not only did I give him my heart, but I gave him my body, too,” I choke out, relieved to have it out in the open. “I gave my body to someone who didn’t deserve it because I thought he loved me, and because I convinced myself I loved him when I knew I didn’t. And you wanna know the real kicker?”
When Brandon says nothing, I continue, my voice thick. “It wasn’t evengood.”
I turn to him, ready to laugh at my idiocy when I note his curled upper lip and the angry flush in his cheeks as he cocks his head. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again before finally managing, “You . . . Are you saying what I think you are?”
I nod, wondering what he thinks of me now that he knows.
Brandon shakes his head as if I just told him a lie. “When?” he asks, his voice tight.
“The night of the frat party.”
“The night you were completely wasted,” he confirms, his voice thunderous.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice small.
The more I think about that night, the more I realize how stupid I was.
“And when you say it wasn’t good . . .?” he asks, his voice strained, like each word is painful to say.
“I mean, it was terrible. At least for me, anyway. I can’t tell you how much time I’ve spent since that night wondering if I did something wrong, or if I was the problem. Maybe I just . . . suck. And not in thegoodway. Maybe I’m just a dud in bed, I don’t know. But then I asked the girls about it, and they made me feel like maybe I wasn’t the problem, but I—”
“Stop.” Brandon’s voice slices through my rambling like a knife with clean precision. “Just, please, stop.”
His eyes are closed as he rises from the bed, then he opens them, shoving a hand through his hair as he begins to pace my tiny room.
“Brandon, what are you?”
“You were drunk, Tate.” He stops and turns toward me, his voice is low and controlled, despite the edge of simmering anger beneath his words. “You were drunk, and he took advantage.”
“No. I consented.”
I remember how wrong it felt in the moment, but how much I wanted to please him. And in the end,Itold him it’s what I wanted.
“It doesn’t matter. What he did was wrong,” he bites out. His hands clench into fists, and his voice is tight as he continues, “It was your first fucking time. It shouldn’t have been under thosecircumstance, and it sure as hell should’ve been better than that. It should’ve been special.”
