“You wanted to be friends,” I say again, like it’s that simple, when I know it isn’t. And fuck me for this.
“So if I slept with another guy last week, that would be okay with you, because we were just friends?”
No; it’d destroy me.
I shut my eyes and breathe hard through my nose. I hold my eyes closed until I hear her moving—then I snap them open and catch her wrist. “Please, Blesk.”
“Let go!” She tugs away. I let go. With a small sob, she steps out of the shower. I just watch her wrap a towel around her body and walk away.
Leaving me standing here.
My hands press to either side of the faucet, and I dip my head between them, staring at the porcelain, wishing to smash it with my fist, to feel this pain become external.
How do I fix this? I have to. I breathe through the fall. She hasn’t left my room. I would have heard her.
Get a grip.
Man up.
Go to her.
Beg.
Grovel.
I shut off the water.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
konnor
My jeans are in a puddle on the bathroom tiles, so I throw them on, day old whatever, and enter my bedroom, finding Blesk is sitting on the edge of my bed in a silk, black nightgown, eyes cast down, long hair slightly damp, making a glossy curtain around her.
“Duch—"
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, wiping her eyes with her knuckles. “I had one too many glasses of wine and?—”
“No, no, no,” I say, kneeling at her feet. “Don’t. Don’t apologise to me. You’re right. I acted like an arsehole while we were apart, and you should know.”
I place my hands on her outer thighs, gazing straight into her eyes. On my knees. My heart on the fucking line. Crush it. I deserve it. “But, Blesk, I’m monogamous. When you left that day and said we should be friends—just friends—I…” I exhale roughly, that same feeling knocking the air from my lungs. “I lost you once. I couldn’t cope with losing you again. It broke me. I acted like a right dickhead. I tried to fix the thing inside me the way I usually do with girls and alcohol, but Iammonogamous. I swear. I’m yours.” I dip my head when she starts to cry, trying to hold eye contact with her. “There is only you, Blesk. There was only ever you, and if you ever realise you are too good for me, which you are, then there will still only ever be you.”
She swallows hard. “I got jealous.”
My chest aches.
“Duch, youneverhave to be jealous.”
“But I don’t get jealous,” she whispers. “I’ve never been jealous. I’ve never wanted someone…”
A sad chuckle leaves me. “It sucks, eh? I will do anything to stop you from feeling jealous again. Name it.”
She fidgets with the hem of her nightgown. “Do… Do you like Faith?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Why…” She searches my gaze. “Why then?”
I frown past her, over her shoulder to the window I used to climb out of. How do I explain this? Simple pleasure without meaning? When everything between us means so damn much, how do I explain such a thing? “Same as the alcohol.” I look back at her sad, pretty face. “Just a way to force my brain to feel good or forget.”
