Both of us still panting, on the edge of something we might not be able to take back.
Rrring.
He curses under his breath and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the phone like it physically hurts to break contact. His jaw tightens when he sees the name.
“Don’t answer it,” I beg.
Will stares at the screen, jaw tight, thumb hovering. Then he exhales, swipes to answer, and presses the phone to his ear.
“Sam.”
I drop my head back against the wall, swallowing a curse of my own.
“Yeah?” A pause. His voice drops, low and hoarse. “Yeah, she’s fine.”
He looks at me. Still disheveled, still flushed, still trembling.
“Yeah,” he says again, softer this time. “I’m with her now. Will do, buddy.”
Then he drags a hand through his hair and exhales so hard it sounds like it takes something out of him.
“I’m so fucking sorry, kiddo.”
The words punch a hole in my chest.
I blink at him, heart twisting. “Don’t call me that.”
His eyes jerk back to mine. “What?”
“Kiddo.” The word tastes bitter in my mouth now. “You don’t get to kiss me like that, touch me likethat, and then call me something that makes it sound like none of it meant anything.”
He takes a step toward me, eyes dark. “It meant something. It meant everything.”
“Then why the apology?” I snap, crossing my arms tight over my chest like they can hold me together. “What, is this the part where you pretend it never happened? Put it back in the box and shove it down until you get jealous again?”
His throat works, silent. That damn muscle in his jaw tics again, the only betrayal of how hard he’s trying to hold it all in.
I wait for a second. For a heartbeat. For something.
But he says nothing. So I turn. Because if I don’t, I’ll either scream or beg him to kiss me again. Maybe both.
I take two steps away before his voice comes, raw and splintered.
“I apologized,” he says, “because I know I don’t have the right to want you like that.”
I stop.
He exhales like he’s ripping the words straight out of his chest. “But I do. I have for a long time. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to want anything else.”
“Then maybe you should figure it out, Will.”
I don’t wait for a response. I walk straight into the bathroom and shut the door behind me with more force than necessary. The silence in there is loud. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes still shining with everything I didn’t say.
With a sigh, I grab a makeup wipe and start scrubbing off the night. Nash’s sweet smile, Will’s kiss, my own spiraling confusion. None of it comes off clean.
When I finally step back into the room, Will’s standing next to the bed, arms at his sides, staring at the mattress like it’s a goddamn live wire.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mutters, voice rough. His gaze flicks to mine, unreadable. “It’s safer that way.”
