He swallowed. “Did you want to break off our arrangement now, then?”
“I guess so. I’m not going to post with someone who finds me morally reprehensible.” I placed my phone face-down in my lap and looked away.
"Nic, you're still a great person," he said, scooting closer.
Right, he just hated a huge part of my life, not me by extension. Not that he cared enough to look past it. Was I being dramatic? It didn’t feel like it.
I stood and wiped the underside of my eyes. “As for your side of the bargain, you can tell your family we broke up or that I’m busy with gigs so I won’t be around for a bit.” It all depended on how much he wanted to lie to them.
They would get over it as soon as he came home with a real girlfriend. A nice girl. Not some ‘warrior princess’ in a stud jacket who sold feet pics.
Zack stood, his expression hard and unreadable. He was a box man again. A sturdy quarterback with resting bitchface. No one got into his head.
I flicked the edge of my phone case. “Are you going to tell them about this?”
“No,” he said.
Good. Kind of good. We were both kinda liars by omission. As long as no one got hurt…well, no one else, this wasn’t a total loss, I guessed.
“Okay. I’ll see you at work. Bye, Zack.” I wavered, almost leaning in on impulse.
We didn’t kiss anymore.
“Bye, Nic.” He took one step forward and opened his arms to me.
I couldn’t resist one more excuse to hold him. We hugged with every inch of our bodies touching. His muscles flexed with a long squeeze and crushed my carefully constructed facade.
Tears leaked down my cheeks. He was so warm. So strong.
I bit my lip and trembled, hanging onto this moment. In his arms, I was loved. I thought I was loved.
Don’t fall apart, I warned myself, and sniffled. I was independent. I could handle this. I didn’t need him, even if he had become my new best friend. Even if I did love him.
My eyes burned. I rubbed my face on his cotton shirt. Old Spice wafted past my budding nose drip.
“It’s okay,” he rasped. “You’re good, Nic.”
I strangled off a low whimper. No, I wasn’t. If he really thought I was good, why couldn’t he be with me?
He kissed my face from my forehead to my cheek, following my contours. Every press of his lips shot heat into my veins. We had chemistry. It just wasn’t meant to be.
Ugh. This was awful. My nose and cheeks stung with heat. I pulled away and wiped my face.
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t keep this in.
He reached for me again. “Nic…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll feel better once I’ve eaten something.” I waved him off and grabbed a tissue. Hopefully, my mascara was waterproof. I didn’t want his last image of me to be of some zombie racoon. “You should leave.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
"I'll get out of here, then. Take care, Nic," he said.
The second he trudged into the hall, I closed the door. He’d started to turn, but I couldn’t let him see me like this. A mess. Again. I switched the lock, then pulled my shirt over my nose to muffle my sobs.
The quarterback didn’t end up with a girl like me. I don’t know what I was thinking.
