Page 119 of Faking the Goal

My eyes move back to him.

There's none of his usual guardedness in his face. He looks solemn. Ashamed, even. His shoulders are slightly hunched, his eyes lowered, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter than I'm used to hearing it.

"I know I've already said it, but I need to say it again when you're actually here to hear me." He swallows. "What I said to you that night was fucking horrible. There's no excuse for it. I was angry, and instead of dealing with whatever the hell was going on with me, I took it out on you."

I stay quiet.

Partly because I want to hear what he has to say.

Partly because I'm sick, trapped in his bed while a small monsoon apparently happens outside, so it's not like I'm going anywhere.

He looks down for a moment, shaking his head.

"And I'm not going to blame the alcohol either. I said it. Those words came out of my mouth, so I own them." His jaw tightens. "I was judgmental. I was disrespectful. And I talked about you like I had some fucking right to decide what kind of woman you are based on how you dress or who you spend your time with."

He looks back at me, and the shame on his face is almost painful to watch.

"I didn't. I don't. None of that was any of my business, and even if it were, I had no right to speak to you the way I did." He exhales heavily. "I was a fucking asshole, Lewis. Worse than an asshole. I was cruel to you for no goddamn reason, and you didn't deserve any of it."

His voice drops quieter.

"I'm ashamed of how I treated you. And I'm so fucking sorry."

I believe him.

That's the shitty part.

I can hear it in his voice and see it all over his face. Kentaro isn't throwing out an apology because he wants this conversation to go away. He means it.

But sincerity doesn't somehow reach backward through time and pull those words out of my head.

I look down at my hands.

"You know, I usually don't give a shit what people think about me."

My voice comes out quieter than I intend.

"I've heard it all before. Trust me. People have had plenty to say about the way I dress, how much I party, who I sleep with..." I shrug. "Whatever. Most of the time, I couldn't care less."

I pick absently at the edge of the blanket.

"But the last few weeks were different with you."

Kentaro doesn't say anything.

"We were spending all that time together, and I thought..." I stop, trying to figure out how to explain it without making myself sound more pathetic than I already feel. "I thought we were actually getting along. That after getting to know me, maybe you didn't see me the same way you did when we first met."

"I thought you'd gotten to know me enough to realize there was more to me than whatever assumptions you'd already made." I let out a shaky breath. "And somewhere along the way, I started caring what you thought of me."

Fuck.

Even admitting that hurts.

"So when you said those things..." My throat tightens. "It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. But it was different coming from you. It hurt me. You hurt me."

My voice breaks on the last word.

His face crumples with something so raw that for a second, he doesn't even look like the Kentaro I know.