She looks surprised at that. Her lips parted in shock. Obviously, she didn’t have a clue what was going on right in front of her face. Maybe I wasn’t the only dense one.
“After all of that, how do you suppose that I’d think it was okay to just to stick my dick in you and get it out of the way, like you said? Jesus. Don’t you think that there should be more to it than that? I wanted your first time to mean something for you. I was trying to keep you safe. From me. From yourself. You want to call me an asshole for that? Go ahead. You want to say I’m a manwhore, that’s fine. It’s not like everyone doesn’t know it anyway. Just stop punishing the people around us for something they didn’t do. My parents did nothing but love you when yours were off all over the country selling fucking RV’s, so don’t punish them for it. My mom misses you. She thinks she did something wrong. Just- just stop…”
To his shame and horror, his voice cracked like thunder mid-rant. Alix stared at him. He couldn’t take the way her eyes bore through him, like she could see straight through to the other side. Like she was looking at this Ross Rivers for the first time. A Ross she didn’t know. A Ross dangerously close to the truth. A truth no one ever saw because it was so much easier to paint them a different fucking picture.
Vulnerability and feelings and shit… that wasn’t sexy.
When he got drunk for the first time, at thirteen, he’d barfed all over the bathroom at Chance’s house. Their mom made him clean it up with bleach. He’d inhaled a little by accident, just the fumes from the bottle, and it singed his nose. It burned for days. He felt a little like that now. His nose burned and his eyes pricked dangerously.
He turned because he couldn’t stand Alix’s golden hued eyes seeing through him for another second. He needed pain. Physical pain to combat the pain ripping him apart from the inside out. It felt like his blood was made of razor blades and every single heartbeat shredded him.
Still sitting, Ross drove his fist into the metal side of the water tower. He and Chance used to ask each other how thick the metal was. Turned out it was pretty damn thick, because it didn’t give. So he hit it again. And again, with the metallic bellow screaming in his ears. He kept pounding, kept beating that metal until his fists were as red hot as the fury and despair gnawing at him. He beat it blindly, the fiery burn spearing through him like a balm to the ragged shrapnel that exploded in his chest and stomach right before he’d left the house.
“Stop!” Soft hands landed on his shoulder. Warm breath puffed out near his ear. “Stop it! Ross, you’re bleeding!”
His eyes flew open and he looked straight ahead, at the water tower. At the rusty metal surface. Smeared on the dark brown was a lighter stain, a deeper red. His blood. His own life force. He raised his hands and looked at them, studying them in a detached way, like they belonged to someone else. He couldn’t feel the pain. All he felt was numb, but even that was better than feeling like he’d ingested glass for a living for the past decade and it was finally catching up.
“Oh my god…” Alix’s voice shook. Her hands shook. All of her shook. Her hands, soft and smooth and dainty, curled around his wrists. She brought his fists up between them and studied the broken, bloodied skin herself. “Why?” Her hands stayed, but her eyes flew to his face. “Why would you do that? Are you that angry about- I’m sorry. I’m sorry… it’s okay. It’s fine. It’s all fine. I’ll forget about it. You’re right, it’s the past. I acted stupid. Then. Now. Always. I was being mean. I was angry, but I’ll try and let it go. I get it…” her voice reached a fevered pitch as his knuckles started to drip little drops of blood all over the metal platform. “Please- Ross…”
His name in her mouth. Falling from her tongue. From her lips. It was different than before. Like he was hearing it for the first time, just like when he’d been in her bedroom, his head cracked open, and she’d been leaning up against her door. She wasn’t the Alix from before. She was a new Alix. A grown-up Alix. A dangerous Alix. An Alix that he wanted, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.
Especially now.
“Ross…” She breathed, her face drenched in sorrow. She shifted her hands, unfolding and clasping his fingers, careful not to brush up against all the skin he’d just busted in the most spectacular idiotic fashion. She leaned in, her entire being leaching worry. “I’m sorry.”