My breath catches.
“What I feel for you is real,” he says, softer now. “And you know it.”
I shake my head quickly. “You don’t know that. You imagined it. We were pretending. You just got caught up in it. You need to snap out of it.”
“I didn’t imagine shit,” he says quietly. “The dance. The beach. Our conversations. Tonight. This kitchen.” His jaw tightens.
My lungs feel too small.
“And it’s not just me,” he continues. “You didn’t pull away when I touched you or kissed you.”
“Stop,” I whisper.
The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m standing here naked. Like he can see straight through me and it fucking scares me.
Don't let yourself feel anything Maddy.
He takes a careful step closer. “You asked me if I’ve ever been in love before,” he says.
My heart stutters.
“Ask me again.”
I shake my head quickly. “Stop. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because—” The words spill out before I can stop them. “Because whatever just happened, or what happened before, it was a mistake. It’s not real.”
“Cut the shit, Maddy.” He studies me for a second. Then he takes another step closer. “If you’re so sure you feel nothing, then look me in the eye and say it.”
My breath trembles.
“Tell me it was all in my head,” he says. “Say it, and I’ll walk out that door. I won’t try again. I won’t touch you. Nothing. But you have to mean it.”
His eyes burn into mine, hopeful and terrified at the same time.
“Maddy,” he starts. “Say it—”
“—I don’t feel anything, Ryan!”
The words tear out of me before I even register them. And we’re left standing there in complete and utter silence. So quiet, even a hair falling on the ground would make a sound.
Hurt flickers across his eyes.
“Okay,” he whispers. He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t argue. He just gives a small nod, turns, and walks to the door. The moment the door closes behind him, I collapse. My back hits the fridge, my knees give out before I can stop them and I slide down to the floor.
“Fuck—” The word comes out shaking. “Fuck, fuck…”
Tears blur everything. I press my hands over my mouth, trying to hold the sound in, but the sob slips through anyway.
“It’s fine,” I choke. “This is good. This is the right thing. It’s good…”
But I can still feel him everywhere, his hands on my waist, my legs, in my hair, against my skin.
I need to forget it. I need to forget everything that happened. It’s better this way. Feelings only get you hurt.
But I’m afraid I’ve already let it come too far.
