Page 93 of These Secret Years

“Why?” I ask, still exploring all his exposed skin. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You think?”

“I’ve always thought that.”

He kisses me again, one hand at work on opening my fly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do to me tonight, but I like it.”

“I guess I missed you, too.”

“Then why don’t we see each other?”

“I don’t know. Life is shit.” I’m shit. “It’s not like we can do this.”

“We’re doing it right now.”

“You were gonna pay me.” I lift my hips, and he pulls down my pants now that they’re open. While he’s doing that, I take off my shirt before running a hand through my hair to tame it back down.

“Are you saying I could have just asked you out, and you would have said yes? I don’t think so,” he says.

The fact that he’s probably right makes me hate myself a little more. I want him more than I should, and I fucking know that, but it doesn’t stop my brain from trying to find a way for us. At least until summer. “Are you saying you don’t mind that I suck other guys dicks for money?”

“I mean—everybody’s gotta make a living, right? Would I like it better if you were playing your violin for tips? Sure, but I get the profit margins are vastly different.”

For fuck’s sake, he’s even sexier when he sounds smart. How is he even possible? We’re having this conversation with him draped over me, propped on his forearms. Our chests are barely touching, and all I would have to do to kiss him and shut him up would be to lift my head an inch, but I’m just staring up at him with my hands on his waist, answering questions with questions.

I need to stop doing that. “I would have wanted to say yes to you, but I’m not sure I would have let myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not a good idea.”

“Like I’m a bad investment?” he asks.

“Sort of. Or like a designer drug that leaves you flat broke and wanting more.”

His mouth curves into a grin. “I had no idea you thought so highly of me.”

“No?”

He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Well, I do. I always have.”

He frowns down at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emotion forms a knot at the base of my throat, and my eyes burn. I lick my lips, needing to hold this in, but increasingly unsure whether I’ll be able to. “What makes you think I’m not?” I hate the way my voice shakes.

He gives me a look like the answer to his question should be terribly obvious, and he’s right. This is nothing like the way I was with him over the summer. So much has happened. The wall I kept up between him and me is barely standing anymore because I’ve been so busy building other ones to protect me from the shit I’ve had to do to survive. I hate the way money is controlling every aspect of my continued existence. I hate everything I’ve had to do to be at this school, and it’s been all I can do this year to pass my classes and give a damn about a future I might not be able to have.

I groan and look away from him, past him to the sky. “Fine. No. I’m not okay.”

“Sullivan…” He starts to push himself off me, but I grip him even harder, limiting how far he can go.

“Wait. It’s complicated.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“Give me a chance,” I say.