“Gen, listen to me—I had no idea he was going to publish this,” Jean starts rambling, his eyes glistening with tears. My chest heaves, my lips pressing hard into each other to staunch the shock of knowing everyone read Ian’s latest piece of gossip—aboutme. I’m rooted to the ground, paralyzed by the attention pouring into me by every single person in this room.
“Yeah I heard her mom’s like stolen people’s husbands.”
“Why would Grant go for her?”
“Oh my god do you think this is why Will broke up with Olivia?”
Someone loudly collapses into a table and when we look over, we see Scott’s nose bloodied, Grant stalking away from him with fists clenched, and I know he hit him. Know that somehow, Scott had something to do with the news blast and Grant took it upon himself to defend me. It sends a flash of heat across me at the same moment that it pisses me off.
I don’t know where to look. Everything is happening so fast and I want to evaporate right out of thin air.
“Thank god you’re here,” I hear Jean say, looking up to find Olivia directly in front of me. She confidently grabs me by the shoulders, her face a sea of calm I never would’ve believed I’d come to appreciate so much.
“It’s going to be okay. They will move on just as quickly as they found out. I promise,” she whispers, and I nod, her reassurance helping me regain my agency. But my anger doesn’t abate; it grows and grows, collecting every instanceof this, of people believing the worst in me, until it’s a glowing ball of fire.
“Come on,” she starts to say, gripping my hand while Jean cups me by the elbow. “Let’s just?—”
“I got her.” His voice, the one I love, the one that haunts me, ricochets through me, tricks me into feeling safe. Before I realize what’s happening, Grant’s wrapping his coat around me, ushering me out of the gymnasium and away from the prying eyes. My body betrays me, letting him because despite what I know to be true—that this changes nothing—I miss him. And for a moment I’m grateful, for his touch, for his comfort—until I remember why he’s offering it at all.
I erupt the moment we burst through the door, the snow falling on and around us doing nothing to cool the temper that’s been burning inside me. I roughly shrug out of his touch, flinging off the coat before stepping away from him, only for him to tug me back.
“Gen, please?—“
“Let go,” I grit out, and he releases me in an instant, confusion and worry swirling in his eyes.
“At least put the jacket back on,” he insists, his gaze landing on my bare shoulders peppered with snowflakes.
“I don’t need you to look out for me!” I shout suddenly, weeks or years of fury compounding in my voice.
He stands there stunned, his chest heaving as he regards me. “I just need to make sure you’re okay,” he says, restrained and measured.
“You don’t get that privilege anymore. You didn’t want me, remember?” I hurl my words, praying they hit its mark, hoping they’ll hurt enough for him to care.
And they strike like a match because something sparks in his gaze as his jaw sets, his face twitching with emotion,his head shaking in disbelief. “Didn’twantyou? I was devastated, Gen. I was heartbr—” He reaches for me, but I evade his touch.
“Iwas heartbroken!Iwas fucking gutted when you told me to go. That’s what you told me when I told you I’d do anything. Anything, Grant. You told me towalk away. And I did, because maybe you needed time.”
“Just let me?—”
“No, Grant. You told me you shouldn’t havecalled. You didn’twant me,” I choke out, the hurt feeling fresh all over. “I didn’t run from this—youpushedme away.”
“Do you think that was easy for me to do? Do you think I wanted to lose you?” His voice is rough with unspent tears, is heavy with regret as he paces toward me, cradling my face in his hands and I can’t help but lean into his touch.
“I think you were a coward,” I tell him, and he winces as I shove him away. “I think it was easier than asking me to stay.”
“What should I have done, Gen? What do you want me to do?” His voice carries, is a warm caress across my skin even though we’re fighting, even though we’re finally having this out and I don’t know how it will end.
“Forgive me. Believe me,” I demand, hands on my chest like maybe he’ll finally get it. Finally understand that it’s always going to be him I want, if he’ll let me, and I see him start to cry.
“Choose me,” I yell, to the sky, to the heavens, to him. “Just choose me. All I want is you.Still, Grant. It’s suffocating me, how much I want you, butthis? You saving me, rescuing me, claiming me when it’s convenient for you? You ignoring me forweeksbut swooping in because you think I need your protection? I don’t?—”
He closes the distance between us again, his hand tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, his eyes burning with frustration.
“I will never stop protecting you. Don’t ask me to do that. No matter what we are to each other, I won’t stop.” His possession feels so good, and almost distracts me from what I really want. Longing burns in his gaze, wraps around my spine and fills me with hope at the same time it fills me with dread. Because he’s always wanted me; just never enough to face his fears;never enough to really chooseme.
And we’re so close. Almost there.
It’s reaching the heavens but being too afraid to reach out your hand.
