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Soon the fight seemed to slip out of her again, and her blows become slower and increasingly ineffectual. Eventually, I grabbed her wrists, and held them tight and high.
“You done?”
“Fuck you.” I could tell I wasn’t going to get a coherent response from her, and I didn’t blame her at all. She’d been through a lot. I wouldn’t have been able to think rationally in her position either. At least not if I’d lost my mom. If my dad had died, it would have been a totally different story.
“Wait, what did you say before?”
“You done?”
She looked at me as though I was the worst kind of stupid. “No, before that.”
“I love you, and I—”
“Yeah, that. What the fuck?”
“It’s true. I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight. Fuck, with all the examples around me, I don’t think I even believe in love, period, but I know that even from the moment I stumbled into on you that first night at Rollergirl, I’ve felt something for you that I’ve never felt for anyone. Not even close.”
“You were drunk and horny. It was hardly Romeo and fucking Juliet.”
“True. But I loved you then, and I love you now.”
“Shut up.” I still had ahold of her wrists, and I squeezed them tighter, as she fought to withdraw herself from me.
“No.” I held her firm.
“Shut up and take it back.” Her face contorted, red with anger as she yelled and squirmed.
“Why should I? It’s true. You don’t have to like it, but it’s the way it is.”
“You’re right, I don’t have to like it, and I don’t. Because I feel the same, and I hate myself for it.”
“Excuse me?”
“In so many ways, I hate you and everything you stand for. But I also fucking love you. What the hell does that say about me? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong. Neither of us chose this situation, nor did we choose to feel the way we do.”
“You think? If I could love literally anyone else in the world, except for that asshat Xavier Cross, I totally would.”
I smirked to myself. My father always used to say that there was no glory in comparing yourself to the lowest common denominator—it was just a way to stroke your own ego, instead of working hard to be better—but I always secretly took heart in the fact that while Xavier and I were friends, there would always be someone around who was a bigger asshole than me, apart from Victor himself, of course..
“Good to know.”
I let go of her wrists, and braced myself for another onslaught, either verbal or physical. When none was forthcoming, I looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
“So…?”
“So I want you to love me.”
“I just told you I do.” I frowned, cocking my head to study her.
“Not like that. I need you to show me, with your body.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed her hands, and intertwined her fingers with mine, this time keeping them low, and at the same time, striding her backward toward the wall. I shoved her hard against it, seeking out her mouth, and thrusting my tongue inside it, claiming what I’d always known was mine. I took both of her hands in one of my own, and used the free hand to grapple with the buttons on her dress. She pulled her mouth away from mine to croak urgently.
“Just rip it off.”
Again, I needed no further encouragement. Two hard yanks, and the buttons were toast. I released her arms, and she shrugged off the torn garment, and left it in a heap around her ankles. She turned to face the wall, bracing her forearms against it.
