Thank you, best friend. Super fucking helpful.
“What’s up?”
I clear my throat, then say what I carefully rehearsed. “Well, you know, I’m leaving in a few days.”
She nods.
“And I know what we said in Arizona, but I don’t want this to end. We can—”
She pulls completely out of my arms now, sitting up on the couch.
Shit.
I sit up straight and reach for her, but her arm is stiff in my hand. “Just hear me out. I’m leaving, but—”
“There is no ‘but,’ Trey,” she says, but it’s weak, not harsh or angry.
“There can be, and there should be. We’re good together—no—we’re great together, Jessie—”
“We’re not together though, that’s not what this is,” she cuts me off, firmer than before, as she stands from the couch.
This isn’t coming out how I planned. I didn’t expect her to get so upset so quickly.
“We had a deal,” she continues, “this ends when you leave. Nothing has changed.”
I stand now. “Bullshit. Let’s call this what it is: a relationship. We are in arelationship.”
She shakes her head adamantly, but I keep going. “This is more than roommates-with-benefits—at least it is for me. I don’t want this to end just because I’m leaving for a few months. I’ll be back, and I want to come back to you, baby. I know you want this, too, I see it every time you look at me, when you touch me. So what if neither one of us was looking for a relationship this summer? We stumbled into this, and I refuse to end what we have just because I’m leaving.”
She repeatedly shakes her head, and I can tell she knows I’m right, but she’s about to argue. “There is no ‘us.’ We agreed this would end when you left,” she repeats. “You’ve lived here for less than three months. Don’t act like you know me or what I want.”
“You’re wrong. I do know you, and that’s exactly why I want to come back here. To you.”
She furrows her brow and she crosses her arms.
“I know your favorite color is purple, your favorite TV show isThe Witcher, and you love Sabrina Carpenter but still say espresso wrong. You think tomatoes are gross unless they’re on a burger, and I think you secretly want a dog—which, by the way, we should totally get one—but you don’t say it out loud. And I know grumpy sunshine is your favorite trope, but honestly, how can you choose that over enemies to lovers?”
Her eyes go wide at the mention of book tropes from her favorite romance series.
“Yeah, I read every book.” I take a breath and keep going, “but I know—I see—more than that, Jessie. I watch you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, taking care of Gran, working extra to pay her bills, always being there for Kacey and Carson when they need you. I know there is more going on with your father than you let on, and I wish you’d let me all the way in. You care way too much about what people think about you, and you struggle with your parents’ reputations.”
Words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. I’m losing her, I can feel it. I have to get her to understand. “I see the way you can read a room and know exactly who needs a distraction, a laugh, a smile. You don’t see it, but you bring joy into every room you walk into, and you’ve made me feel more alive in these last few weeks than any 8-second bull ride ever has.”
I stop, I know I’ve said too much. I pushed too hard. She takes a step back, shaking her head like it’s all she can physically do. Tears well, but she fights them. “No.No, we are not doing this. I see your phone light up, Trey. And every single fucking time, it’s a woman. You’re a player, a fuckboy—and that’s all you’ll ever be. We are nothing more than a fling, roommates-with-benefits, something to pass the time.”
It feels like she just gut-punched me.
“You know I don’t respond to them, Jessie. I’m sorry, but I can’t change who I was, or what I’ve done in the past, but that’s not who I am anymore. It’s not who I want to be. I wantyou.”
“That’s not the point!”
“What’s the point, then? Want me to get a new number? Because I will. You are the only woman I want to talk to, the only woman I want to spend time with.”
“For now. I’m the only woman you want to seefor now, Trey. You’re leaving. And you’re going to get on the road and find someone else. Someone who fits into your world and doesn’t have a father who deals drugs, or a mother who does them. Wedo notfit. And we shouldn’t pretend we do.”
I stare at her in disbelief after hearing the words coming out of her mouth. I wasn’t sure how this conversation would go, but I didn’t expect it to go south so quickly. Is this what she really thinks? That I can find someone better? Is she that insecure about her past and who her family is? I’ve told her I don’t care who or what her parents do.
“Do you think that little of me?” I ask quietly.
