Page 66 of Deviant Need

He lets go of me and pulls back like I burned him. Confusion flashes across his face before it twists into anger. His brows pull together, and he stares at me for a long moment before rubbing his jaw and cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to go back to them. The girls. We could keep doing this instead, no strings, nothing complicated. Or if you want to forget it happened, we can do that too. Just—you don’t have to fuck gi⁠—”

“Stop,” he cuts me off, his voice tight. “Just stop talking for a second.”

Closing my mouth, my heart hammers against my ribs. Please don’t go back to hooking up with girls. I’ll take whatever he gives me if it means I never have to listen to him fuck someone else again.

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw working as he clearly tries to control whatever he’s feeling.

“I’m so fucking over this,” he snaps suddenly, his voice going hard and cold.

“Over what?”

“You! I’m over you, Danya.” He throws his hands up, frustrated and furious all at once. “Why do you always do this? I’m so tired of having to chase after you. Every single time I get close, you push me away. Every time.”

Wait—that’s not what I meant. That’s what I thought he wanted to hear.

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“You didn’t mean what? That it meant nothing? Because that’s what you just said.”

“No, I just thought⁠—”

“You thought what? That I’d be relieved? You think me fucking you would mean nothing to me?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I love him.

“I thought you’d want to go back to normal. To girls and⁠—”

“Stop talking about girls!” His hands clench into fists. “Why do you keep bringing them into this?”

“Because that’s what makes sense for you. That’s what you’ve always⁠—”

“What I’ve always what? Wanted? You don’t know what the fuck I want.”

“You’ve never been with a guy before, so obviously⁠—”

“Obviously nothing, Danya. You’re making decisions for me again and I’m sick of it.”

“Mikhail, wait⁠—”

“I’m done with this shit.” He grabs his bag from the floor and slings it over his shoulder. “I’m getting my own ride back.”

Everything inside me shatters into pieces I’ll never be able to put back together.

Panic floods my system. He’s leaving. He’s actually leaving.

“Mikhail, please, I didn’t mean it like that⁠—”

“Then how did you mean it, Danya?” He turns back to me and his eyes are blazing. “Because from where I’m standing, you just told me that everything we did meant nothing to you.”

“That’s not—” The words stick in my throat, refusing to come out.

I love you.

I’ve loved you for eight years.