“Jesus, Greer. You and that smart-ass mouth.” He shakes his head. “Sad, no. Mad? Hell fucking yeah. I’m not this guy. The one who cares this much, but you, you make me…” He pauses, taking over the pacing I was doing moments ago. His fingers tug at his hair, leaving it with pieces sticking up all over. “I’ve never wanted to play the hero for someone, not till you came along, and I have no idea how to feel about that.”
His breathing is heavy as he backs up to his house. I don’t think he’s expecting a response. I think... I don’t know what to think.
“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Greer. I promise. But for some crazy reason, I can’t seem to stay away from you. I know I should, but I can’t.”
I bite my bottom lip, but I still don’t say anything. What would I say? He’s standing here telling me that he wants me but won’t let himself have me. How do I process that?
I want to be mad, but I’m not.
My heart actually hurts thinking of what it must be like to be in his head right now.
He tugs at his hair and rubs his neck.
How can I be mad when he’s so honest?
He steps toward me and stops. “I don’t want to end this night in a fight. Not with you, but if I stand here any longer not touching you, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you even more.”
I nod.
“So, I’m going to go inside now, all right?”
I nod again.
But I don’t move, and he chuckles. “Greer, you know I can’t go inside my house until you’re safely inside yours.”
Like before, I nod. But I do head inside.
I lean against my door, my purse dropping to the floor next to me.
I should have said more.
A lot more.
He made this choice on his own, this choice that something between us can’t happen.
It takes two people, and I should get a say, right?
I tap my chin.
Simon and I do want different things. I get that. But maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. Maybe Natalie was right. Maybe I need something not serious. Something carefree. Something to relieve the stress of my goal taking longer than I want.
Simon and I could still have fun, right?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SIMON
Sleeping is nonexistent tonight.
I glance at the clock. Shit. It’s only nine. This is going to be a long night.
I head up the stairs, peeking into Grey’s room as I head down the hallway to mine. I know he isn’t here, but it’s a habit I don’t think I’ll kick anytime soon.
I pull his comforter up, straighten a few of the football books on his shelf, and then I turn out the light.
Will it be a mindless episode ofThe Officetonight, or should I grab my computer and get ahead on a few things?
My hand is on my bedroom light switch when a movement beyond my window catches my eye. Specifically, through Greer’s window.
