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For a moment, Darius looked offended. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t fucking have to. You kissed me.” I paused, waiting for him to argue the facts. When he didn’t, I took a long breath. “Then you spent years acting like it never happened.”
“No.” He shook his head, and his eyes dropped to the floor.
“No?”
“No… I didn’t spend years pretending it didn’t happen, Alvin.” He sighed. “I spent years wishing it hadn’t.”
That hurt. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. That hurt worse than I imagined anything could.
Darius realized what he’d said almost immediately and looked up at me again. “That came out wrong.”
“Did it, though?” I asked and he nodded. “Hmm, how convenient.”
“I didn’t mean I wished I never kissed you, Alvy.”
“Sounded pretty fucking clear to me that you did, Darius.”
“I just… I wished I hadn’t wanted to.”
My breathing stopped. Darius’s shoulders had gone rigid. Like saying the words physically hurt him.
I didn’t move. Neither did he. Finally, I whispered, “What did you say, DeeDee?”
He shook his head and dropped his eyes again. “Forget it.”
“No, that’s not the way it works, Darius,” I told him. “You can’t snap your fingers and make everyone forget.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth would be fucking refreshing.”
His glare snapped up. “The truth? You really want that?”
“I’ve wanted it since I was fifteen.”
“Fine.” He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd me. Enough that I could see how angry he was. Not at me. At himself. “I wanted you.” Darius laughed bitterly. “There. Happy?”
No. I stared at him.
He continued before I could speak. “I wanted you, and I hated it.” My stomach turned. He saw it on my face. “Not because of you.”
I scoffed. “Fantastic distinction.”
“Listen to me.”
“Why? So you can try to explain how much you hated wanting me. But that it’s okay, because at least you’re fucking finally admitting it. No thanks. Pretty sure I’ve heard it all before.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I!” My voice cracked through the cabin. I jumped off the bed and landed in front of him. “You think I wasn’t scared?”
“I know you were.”
“No, you don’t.” I stepped towards him. “You think because I wore glitter and ran my mouth and told everyone exactly who I was all the time that none of it fucking scared me?”
His face softened. It should have made me feel better. It didn’t.