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But he ignores me. “Every time is like that with you. Like my heart’s going to explode. Like I might pass out, but I’ve got to hold on because I need to feel this for as long as I can.”
“It’s the same for me. You know that.”
“Maybe that’s the only place I’ll be good enough for you. Maybe all you want is Drew the Fucking Hook Up.”
Frustration is an ugly bubble beneath my breastbone. “You call me clueless? For months I’ve thought about nothing but you. You walk into a room, and I feel you.”
“What does that have to do with wanting me for me?” He jabs a thumb against his chest.
“It has everything to do with it!” I yell. “You think I can cut pieces of you up and put them into categories? Drew the man. Drew the player. Drew the super fuck? I tried and, believe me, it doesn’t work that way.
“When I say I want you, I want all of you. And when I say I love you, I love all of you. You’re the one who wants to put a label on everything now.”
“Just following protocol, sweetheart.” His tone is so snide that my eyes water.
“Stop being an ass.” I take a step into his space. “You say you don’t want my pity. Well, it sure as shit seems like you do.”
He scoffs, and I press closer. “Do you want my pity, Drew? Is that it?”
“Why are you really here,” he shoots back. “To play nursemaid?”
Rage I can handle. But I’m not equipped to handle his resentment. Not when I know I’m the cause of it. The hurt is a kick in my stomach, making my body want to sag in on itself.
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
“Maybe I’m not.”
For a long, hard moment, we glare at each other. Drew’s nostrils flare, his tight chest lifting and falling with agitated breaths.
And then I step back. “You know what? I can’t do this with you right now. It’s exhausting.”
He blinks, his head jerking as if I’ve slapped him.
“You’re right. I think you should leave.” There’s so much disdain in his voice, it’s like dry ice. His eyes are cold, dead. And I feel the chill down in my guts.
I think you should leave. I have to say the words over again in my head before I can process them. I can’t even respond; I’ve gone so numb.
I know he doesn’t want to deal. He wants to hide away where nothing can hurt him, lash out when he’s challenged on it. I know because that’s how I’ve been for so long. And I know what it will do to him if he gets his way. Drew wasn’t meant to sink into the dark.
And if I leave, he’ll think he deserves it. For once in my life, I’m not going to take the safe way. I’m not going to protect myself in a shell, even though I know this is going to be awful. Already his rejection is searing away my skin. But I’m willing to let it go to the bone for him.
As if it’s all been decided, Drew moves to go, his expression closed off and dark.
“No.”
He stops in his tracks and turns. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me fine. I live here.”
“No, I live here. You’ve just been hanging around.”
Like dead weight, his tone implied.
Nice, Drew. Nice. I know what he’s doing and why. So it shouldn’t hurt. But, of course, it does.
“You asked me to move in with you. Which means I live here.”
His dark brows lift nearly to his hairline. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? I don’t want you here.”
