There’s an avalanche of groans and Roman says, “We got it, Cap. She’s yours.”
No, she’s not.That knowledge makes me want to punch something. Hard.
In the car, I turn up the volume of the music until I can’t hear my thoughts, but it’s in vain. My mind always veers to her, not caring about the impossibility of us, so I dial Levi’s number, hoping to clear my head.
“How the fuck were you able to function, man? I’m losing my fucking mind.”
He inhales deeply. “I took what I could. We were friends. We would have our stolen moments. I trusted our time would come.”
“You’re patient. I’m not,” I groan, preparing myself for a daily dose of torment.
“Do you wanna come over?” he offers.
“Nope. Because there’s nothing to talk about. The subject is closed. I closed it. So, no more talking about that.”
“Whatever you say,” he chuckles.
“I can hear you smiling, asshole.”
I hang up, his laughter trailing after me as I park.
Outside, I look up at the gray clouds darkening the sky, just like a storm builds in my chest, wreaking ruin.
Puffing out a heavy breath of frustration, I feel her long before I see her. My body vibrates whenever she’s near, all my senses are attuned to her.
When she’s next to me, she tips her chin up. “What’s out there? I see nothing but the beginnings of rain.”
My fucking sanity.
She takes my hands in hers, and an electric shock jolts my body.
“I wanted to tell you. Please, let’s not go back to being awkward or having this passive-aggressive whatever we have going on. I should have told you, but you were already mad at how we ended.”
I arch a brow.
“Fine, how I ended things.” She drags a lungful of air and every muscle in me stiffens.
Don’t say it.Don’t you dare say it.
“Can we be friends?”
She did, didn’t she? I expect any moment for a truck of bullshit to roll over me, flattening me to the ground with a big friend zone stamp.
“Friends.” I spit out the word as if it were rotten on my tongue.
She sure knows how to make a man feel special.
Whatever she sees on my face, she quickly adds, “We wouldn’t work out, anyway. I value privacy and the few women I saw you with look nothing like me.”
I wish to tell her that none of them were her. None of them held my attention. I’ve wanted no one like I do her.
“And I am the relationship type. I’ve had just two boyfriends and you.”
How she differentiates that, delineating with a swat of her hand the past from the present.
She rocks on her feet, her nervousness reaching its peak. “I’m bad at this. Forget it.”
She walks past me, and I grab her hand, pulling her back. She falls into my arms, hands planted on my chest. Her mouth says “friends,” while her eyes say “give me everything.”
