“D-Don’t… touch me,” she says, eyes wide. Not just angry. Shocked.
I lift both hands immediately in surrender, but I stay seated. Standing will only make her feel cornered.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I was just—” I drag a hand down my face. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
She groans into her palms, frustration spilling over, then starts pacing the small panic room like a caged animal. Two steps one way. Turn. Two steps back. She pivots sharply and strides toward me, stopping close enough she’s towering over where I sit.
Her face is stone. “You keep doing that,” she grits out. “Touching my arm. My lower back. Fucking… hovering.”
I mumble quickly. “Sorry.”
She throws her hands up. “This again.”
I curse under my breath, but there’s no bite in it, just defeat. “I know you hate it. I know I’m crossing… boundaries. I’m sorry, okay? I’ll try to… control myself.”
She stills. Then slowly turns back to me, narrowing her eyes like she’s examining something she doesn’t recognize. “Control yourself?” she repeats, disgust curling in her tone. “I don’t even understand why you’d have these… urges.”
That one lands hard.
Fuck. I don’t deserve her. I’ve known that for over a month now, ever since I finally admitted what I feel. I know I don’t stand a chance.
But seeing the loathing in her eyes is making my head spin.
My throat dries when it sinks in fully: I’m unwanted. By the one person who once wanted me so openly it bordered on reckless.
She chased me, and I ignored her. Now my touch makes her recoil.
I clear my throat. Twice. It doesn’t help.
“God,” she groans. “Now you look like I kicked your puppy. Don’t tell me I hurt your feelings.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
She’s studying me now, confusion mixing with irritation. A scowl firmly painted over.
I swallow hard. “You don’t have to worry about that, Charlotte. I’ve hurt you plenty.”
She scoffs. “Like you even cared back then.”
I freeze. Memories rise uninvited—her younger face, softer, hopeful. A version of her I helped break.
When the silence stretches too long, I lower my gaze and push forward anyway. “I did care,” I say quietly. “I just… I saw you. I always saw you. I just didn’t understand what your attention meant. I didn’t see it for what it was. I ignored your crush and—”
“Oh my God!” She bursts out laughing.
It’s not real laughter. It’s fractured. Sharp. Almost hysterical. She laughs like that a lot now. Like it’s the only way to survive what she remembers.
When it tips toward something manic, I look up. She wipes at a tear, shoulders still shaking. “My crush,” she giggles.
It takes her a few seconds to settle. Then she looks at me, amusement lining her features in a way that feels crueler than anger. “I’m going to tell you this once, Ruin,” she says, and her voice cracks on my name. “I was manipulated into thinking you were my one. You’re not.”
The finality in her tone hollows me out. All this time I thought I’d missed something that could’ve been everything. But she’s already dissected it. Pulled it apart. Decided none of it was real.
My chest feels like it’s splitting open.
“Charlotte, I—” I what? Apologize again? Explain? Beg?
My jaw locks, pain pulsing at my temples. There aren’t words strong enough to undo what I did. what I allowed.
