I sit back up, the memories of how she felt around me converting my confusion into lust. Last night was different. It was hateful, angry sex, filled with resentment and desperation. She wanted to resist. I could see it in her eyes as I rammed myself inside her. She wanted to be strong, but she couldn’t. We both couldn’t. We never can.
I swear this girl is going to be the death of me.
I hear motion in the kitchen and smile, scooping her phone that’s still annoyingly buzzing off the table and carrying myself out of bed. The first thing I see when I march out of my room is Winter standing in front of the oven, cooking breakfast, or should I say, trying to cook since she’s a self-proclaimed queen at burning pastas.
“Smells good in here.” I walk to her and rest her phone, which just stopped ringing, on the counter. She’s wearing my shirt. She’s the cutest thing in the entire freaking world, and anyone who disagrees will have to fight me. “I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I don’t. Which is why I’m hoping you don’t die from food poisoning.” She giggles.
“You’re not eating with me?”
“I already ate.”
I nod and kiss her. She barely pecks my lips and pulls away.
“That’s it? That’s all I get?” I pout.
“Sorry. My morning breath says I can’t kiss you longer. I want you to live.”
I laugh.
“Any plans today?” I ask.
“Yeah, Kass’s picking me up in less than an hour to go dress shopping. You know… for prom. She already got her dress, but I didn’t.”
“I thought you weren’t going to that.”
“I wasn’t going to, but Kass’s dragging me, so I thought maybe…” She stops talking. “Maybe we could go together.”
I pretend to hesitate, which only accentuates the worried expression on her face.
“If you’re going, then I’m going,” I say, and she rejoices, the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen lighting up her face. She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek multiple times. I don’t care much for prom—I never have—but I care for Winter, which makes the choice easy.
She turns off the stove and goes to get a plate out of the cabinet. I find myself staring when she gets on the tips of her toes and the shirt rises, giving me a quick but much appreciated sneak peek of her ass.
“Nice shirt.” I smirk and lean back against the counter with my arms over my chest.
“I grabbed the first thing I could find. Hope you don’t mind.” She comes back with a plate. “It’s so big, I never get cold. I like it.”
“Keep it if you want. You’re going to need it when you move to the North Pole.”
The smile is instantly slapped off her lips.
I know that was a low blow. I couldn’t help myself. We haven’t talked about her leaving yet, and it’s weighing on me a bit more every day.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been good since last night. I’m stopping now.” I put my hands up in surrender.
“No, don’t. You’re right. It’s time we talk about it.” She places the plate down next to the sink. “Let’s just put it out there, shall we? I’m leaving next Friday. What then?”
Her affirmation punches me right in the face. I don’t know why I somehow convinced myself that she’d flinch and decide to stay. To me, the possibility of her leaving was just that: a possibility. But now it’s real… too real.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering leaving,” I let out.
“Of course I am. Florida was never a permanent thing for me. Toronto’s my home. It’s where my family is, my friends. My whole life. The college I chose.”
“I thought your life was here… with me.” My throat itches.
“It is. You’re a big part of my life, but… they are, too.”