“From what?”
“From a boss. From the world. I want this because of what it can afford me, not because this movie in particular will make me the person I want to be. You can’t live like that. You can’t let one thing define you.”
She chews her lip and lets me stand inches from her. I touch her arms and let my hands linger as she tilts her chin up toward me, tears glittering in her eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad. I’m so, so sorry. I really didn’t know.”
“I never told anyone.”
“Not even Ansell?”
“We keep things from each other. It’s part of how our friendship works.”
She doesn’t pull her eyes away as tears roll down her cheeks. I wipe them away slowly. “Why did you tell me then?”
“Because we’re dealing with an addict now, and I don’t want you obsessing over the things you can’t control. They won’t fix you.”
“Like we can’t fix him?”
“Exactly.”
“Fuck, Baptist. How did we get here?”
“I don’t know.”
She puts both hands on my chest. The bare touch of her fingers sends an electric jolt into my spine and we stand there staring into each other’s eyes. I want to tell her so much more—I want to share with her the pain I’ve gone through for years processing what happened to my father and dealing with the guilt I feel over my role in his death. I want to explain to her why I’ve accepted Rodrick’s drug use, and why I won’t try to force him to quit, even if I could.
But there are no words anymore. There’s only her, standing close, breathing slowly.
There’s only my Blair.
I lean forward, and I kiss her.
Chapter18
Blair
Ihave to tell him.
My body’sscreamingfor me to tell him. After he just opened up and told me something so personal and vulnerable, I need to tell him the truth. He’ll hate me if I keep hiding it from him.
If I keep hiding his baby.
But I can’t find the words. I can’t open my mouth. His skin is like fire beneath my fingers, burning hot and smooth, and I want to run my hands along his tattoos. I want to feel every inch of him, every hard muscle, every contour of his finely chiseled abs. I need him more than I ever imagined I could.
He’s filled with pain. So much pain and so much anger. I can see it in his eyes—he hates the world for taking his father away, and yet he doesn’t blame it.
He keeps going.
That’s what I need to do. I have to learn to keep going, even when my father threatens to drag me down, to drown me in my own self-loathing and misery.
I stand on my toes. He touches my chin, tilting it toward him, before reaching back to run his fingers into my hair. He grips tightly, and I cover his mouth with mine, kissing him hard and deep.
I have to tell him. I have to tell him right now.
But I won’t.
Instead, I fall into that kiss. I let myself ignore all the warnings and the reasons not to, all the other things I should be doing right now instead. All that passes over and through me, and I don’t care about any of it.
There’s only him, right here, right now.