“I’m tired of fighting you.”
“You want to be friends?” she whispers.
“No, I don’t want to be friends,” I retort in a low voice. “Come back to my place.”
Her breath catches and those gorgeous, full lips part.
My body tightens. She’s driving me insane.
“And then what?” she asks.
I frown. I know she’s lived a sheltered life, but what exactly is she asking for here? A birds-and-bees talk? Carefully, I reply, “What do you mean?”
“Will it be a casual hookup? Or is this the start of something?”
I knead the nape of my neck. I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Let’s just play it by ear.”
I see in her soft brown eyes the desire to give in and lose herself completely in me, but I also see the shadows of a conflict there.
“Justin, I can’t do a casual hookup,” she says at last.
It’s not as if her statement surprises me. Nothing in her upbringing, her character, or her dreams of the future says she’ll be happy with a carefree fling. A man can hope though.
We watch each other for a moment.
Her heart is right there in her eyes. She takes a deep breath and I know I won’t like what she’s going to say next.
“I want a relationship where I feel safe and treasured,” she says, laying it all out there. “All you’re offering me is momentary pleasure.”
“Hey, don’t knock pleasure,” I tell her gruffly.
She bites her bottom lip. “I deserve more than just pleasure from you.”
A strained silence coils between us.
That’s when she pulls the pin and throws her grenade. “Isn’t there some part of you that wants to be in a relationship that’s more than just a superficial hookup?”
I stare at her.
There is. To be loved. To be accepted. To belong. I’m blindsided by a jolt of longing so intense my eyes burn. My throat closes. It’s all I can do to breathe.
Then I think of my parents. I think of how much of myself I’ve given to them, but it’s not enough for them. It’s never enough. And it won’t be enough for Heather either, despite the misguided hope shining in her eyes.
A single word flashes through my mind.Enough.
Abruptly, I say, “I don’t have head space for this right now.”
“Will you ever give it head space?”
My anger spikes. I realize the reverse applies here too. Heather’s the type to give all of herself to me. Knowing what I’m like, I would inevitably find a way to trample over her too. Because that’s what I do. That’s how I was raised. I’m a tornado that destroys everything in its path.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “We don’t fit. We’re two people pulling in different directions, hungering after different things.”
It hurts more than I expected to shut her down. I feel my past, the darkness in me, like a massive mountain blocking the road Heather wants to travel on with me. And I have no idea how to climb its slippery slopes.
58
AMY
