“You know, texting, being friends. We should stop.”
“But…” His voice softens. “Why?”
“I just think it’s for the best.” I attempt to clear the pit in my throat, only to have it expand in size.
I need to get out of this bathroom.
Now.
With my head hanging low, I round him, moving toward the door, but he stops me, snatching my wrist and jerking me to his exposed chest. His body is hard, burning to the touch. I want to push him off, run before his proximity turns my brain into goo, but I can’t move a muscle, reminiscing about the good old days where I could breathe properly.
“Where is this coming from?” He searches my eyes.
“Look, I-I really have to go.” I try to wriggle my way out of his grasp, but he tugs me back.
“Wait, please. Whatever I did, I’m… I’m sorry.”
The guilt dripping from every word feels like a stab to the gut. He really is sorry, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be around him anymore. I can’t be his friend.
These feelings are a ticking time bomb.
And I have no intention of being here when it goes off.
“Can we just… do this some other time?” I give the tiled floor my sole focus.
“Kass, fuck, just… Look at me,” he begs, raising the tip of my chin with his index. Our eyes lock despite my best efforts. “Talk to me.”
Why is he making this so hard?
“You seemed mad when we were playing Zoey’s dumb game, too,” he has the audacity to add.
I’m surprised you even noticed with Callie’s tongue down your throat.
“Callie’s probably wondering where you are. Why don’t you go find her?” I retrieve my wrist, adding as much space as possible to the gap between us.
“Because I don’t fucking want to,” he snarls.
Hearing him say that makes my heart way too happy.
“Then why did you invite her here?”
“Why did you invite Luke?” He gives me a taste of my own medicine. Technically, I didn’t invite Luke, but I’m way too drunk to bother correcting him.
“What’s it to you?” I step dangerously close to him, my anger overriding my common sense. “Why are you here, Will? What do you want from me?”
A beat of silence.
“Honestly?” It should be a question, but he says it as a warning. A low “You have no idea what you’re asking for” warning.
“No, fucking lie to me!”
He doesn’t speak for a while, staring down my face as if he’s debating on something. The alcohol makes his blue eyes pop, tugging at my weaknesses. Disarming me completely.
Waiting for his reply feels like hanging off a goddamn cliff.
“Okay.” He exhales after a few seconds.
I pause.