Fucking …shakes.
And I come unglued.
“What the actual fuck, Emmett?” I grind out through gritted teeth. “I can’t touch your goddamned back, but you’re desperate to suck. Me. Off. In the fuckinghallway? Like it’s no big deal? Like I didn’t say fucking no?”
He’s unmoving on the floor, just a lump of what I thought was a friend. Maybe even a boyfriend, if that’s what he’d eventually wanted.
Hell, I’d still give himany-fucking-thingif he’s just look at me.
Show me those eyes. The sweet ones full of fire and life.
Not this. Not like this.
I lace my hands behind my head and take another step away from him. The grip stings, his nail marks evident in my skin, and I squeeze them harder. At least then, I’d know that this started out well. That this was just as willing on his part at the beginning as it was on mine.
He said green. He said okay.
That’s the catch, though, isn’t it?
He was still sayingokaywhile he was hovering over me, attempting to take something I didn’t give.
Why?
He remains unmoving. Silent on the floor. Still on his knees, his hands limp in his lap.
I force a breath and nearly cry out at the pain that lances through my torso.
It takes everything in me to hold down the dry sob that threatens the back of my throat.
Why?
Dropping my arms, I flex my hands against the tingle that takes them over. The center of my chest caves in and I nearly collapse.
Whywhywhywhy.
“I can’t stay here,” I choke out, turning away from him.
I fucking run.
Down the stairs. Into Hatley’s room. Throwing on the nearest thing, I shove my feet into boots.
I’m shaking when I make it to the living room in search of my go-bag, my alarm blaring somewhere on the couch and making my ears ring.
Too loud. Too much.
“Please,” I hear him mutter once the room falls silent. “Don’t.”
I swallow hard and slowly turn to face him with my heart pounding a mile a minute behind the strap across it.
“I have to go to work.”
He stiffens and I ignore the tear tracks down his cheeks. The redness to his eyes. The splotches on his cheek washing out the faded freckles I bet would come out in the sunlight.
“Don’t …don’t go,” he cries and reaches for me.
It feels forced. Artificial.
He doesn’t reach for me.
