I keep going, because if I stop now, I won’t be able to start again. “You think I’m a joke. That this is a joke. That I’m some guy who flirts and gets what he wants and then moves on—fine. That’s the version of me you want to believe in, go for it. But that’s not the version standing in front of you right now and since we met, I haven’t done a damn thing to make you think otherwise.”
She’s frozen. Defensive. Eyes flicking between mine like she’s waiting for the punchline.
“There is no one else,” I say, softer now.
“Troy—” Her voice catches.
I cut her off. “Do you know how fucking annoying it is? To want someone who doesn’t want anything from you? Not my smile, not my company, not my goddamn cooking—nothing.”
“Troy.”
“I told myself you were worth it.” I laugh, sharp and bitter. “That maybe we could help each otherhealor some shit. But it’s not that. You get under my skin, Delilah. You stay there. And I’m trying. I’m trying to play it cool, and give you space, and respect your walls, but every time you look at me like you wish I wasn’t there—God, it fuckingkillsme.”
She’s breathing hard now, like she’s been running. Her eyes are glassy. Her lips parted. But she still hasn’t stepped back.
“I’m sorry I said it during the game,” I whisper. “It was cowardly. You’re right. But I’m not taking it back.”
She swallows.
“I like you, Delilah. A lot. And I don’t know what that means to you,” I say. “But it means something to me. I don’t say that withoutfuckingmeaning it.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
I look at her. Messy hair, clenched jaw, eyes full of everything she’s too scared to let out.
“Because I can’t stop,” I say. “Because I’ve tried. And I failed. And now it’s justyou.”
The air between us hums. Like we’re one breath away from something dangerous.
“It’s just a phase Troy. People think they like me, and then they get to know me and all my…shit and my messiness and then they leave.” She shakes her head. “Yeah fine, you might like me but likes change and I cannot do this with you.”
Fuck it.I might as well go all in.
“I think I might even be falling in love with you, Delilah.”
28
DELILAH
“Ithink I might even be falling in love with you, Delilah.”
And for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Not because I didn’t think he felt something. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at me.
I know.
I’ve known.
But hearing it? Out loud? Without a joke cushioning it, or a dare wrapping it up in plausible deniability? I hate how much Iwantto believe him. I hate how soft his voice is. I hate how warm he looks even in the freezing air, standing there like he’d stand there forever if I asked.
I cross my arms tighter over my chest. “You can’t just say that.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because it’s unfair,” I snap, louder than I mean to. “You can’t throw feelings at me like they don’t have consequences.”
“I’m not throwing anything. I’m telling you how I feel.”
