“Can I take your shirt off?” he asks, pulling away to look me in the eyes. I nod, realizing something is terribly wrong when the words “just get it over with it” pop into my head. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t want this moment to be over so fast. This isn’t how it should be.
This isn’t how it used to be.
Sex with Finn could last for hours and still not be long enough. It was scorching hot and so damn overwhelming at times I thought I was going to go insane. He was rough and demanding, and he would fuck me until I couldn’t speak. He would ask for consent, sure, but it didn’t feel awkward when he did. Then he’d have his way with me. No shame, no filter. He’d just take whatever he wanted.
Pressure rises between my legs, and guilt clogs my throat. Chance begins to pull at the hem of my sleeves, struggling to get my shirt off, and I tense up at the words written on my forearm.
Holy shit, Finn wrote something in invisible ink on my sleeve earlier. I completely forgot about it. I remember Theo saying all the lights in the house had been changed for black lights, including the lights in the bedrooms. I glance at the clock on Chance’s wall.
It’s midnight.
The guys must’ve used smart lights and put them on a timer, which means everyone is reading the “confessions” people wrote on their clothes in transparent ink at this very moment.
I squint at Finn’s handwriting.
Then I start to cry.
I can’t control it—hell, I don’t even understand it—but I burst into silent sobs as I read the words Finn wrote on my shirt.
Everything but you…
That used to be our thing.
Our way of saying “I love you.”
Low blow, Richards, low blow.
“What’s wrong?” Chance worries when I push him off me.
Everything is wrong.
The situation is wrong.
The timing is wrong.
But mostly, my heart is wrong. The stupid thing doesn’t know how to differentiate hate from love.
“I… I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good.” I lift off the bed, my head spinning and the air in my lungs contaminated with panic. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I slide my feet into my shoes before Chance can get a word in and haul ass out of his bedroom.
The house is dark, but I manage to hurry down the stairs with the help of the black lights scattered around the party. The deafening music muffles Chance calling my name, but it’s not loud enough to quiet the devil on my shoulder.
You still have feelings for him.
After all this time.
After everything he did.
Stupid, stupid girl.
I need to get the hell out of here.
I’m halfway to the door when I feel a hand wrap around my wrist from behind. I try to keep going, but the pull is too strong. Someone spins me around, and my breath jumps when I come face-to-face with Finn. At first, he looks shocked. But then, he notices the tears coating my cheeks, and his confusion morphs into rage.
“What did he do?” he grits out, still holding my wrist.
I don’t answer, trying to school my erratic breathing.
“Dia, what the fuck did he do?” he spits, urging me to reply, and my mouth falls open.