Because I think I may have been wrong all along.
Aiden lets out a humorless laugh. "You meant every word," he says, shaking his head. "You're so terrified of this being something that you're pushing me away. I should've known you wouldn't stick around."
"No, wait, I didn't—"
"Save it, Dani," he says, turning away from me to look for the rest of his clothes. He pulls them on with determined jerks, suddenly looking like he wants nothing more than to get away from me. "I don't want any more excuses. You're right, you've made your feelings perfectly clear since the beginning. Stupid me for thinking that might have changed. That you might actually wantme."
And his voice sounds so bitter, so broken, that I find myself pressing forward to grab his arm and spinning him to face me. "Aiden, I didn't mean that. Don't go, let's just talk about this—"
He lets out a bitter laugh as he shakes my grip off. "Why? So you can push me away some more? I can only take so much, Dani." He pulls his shirt on with a quick tug, looking immediately more guarded when he has the last layer of clothing between us. "I'm not going to fight for someone who doesn't want me. That's not the kind of relationship I'm interested in."
Then he's turning away and moving toward the door, yanking it open and pushing into the hallway.
"Wait, that's it?" I ask, panic making my voice higher than normal. But I really am panicking, suddenly realizing that I pushed him too far, that I did too much damage and won't be able to pull him back.
That I may have just lost him.
"That's it," he says in a tight voice, turning to give me one last look. A look that's equal parts determined and pained. "It's been fun, Dani—" He spits my name, and for the first time it doesn't contain any of the usual teasing that I'm used to— “but I think I'm done. Enjoy the rest of your lonely life."
And with that, he walks off, leaving me to stare at his retreating form in shock, and flinch when he slams the front door behind him.
And I immediately feel more alone than I ever have in my life.
17
DANI
I’m a mess at work for the next few days. Thank God I only work bartending shifts—and that Bobby has known me long enough to cut me some slack and not comment on it—because the amount of mistakes I make behind the bar would surely get me fired from a permanent job. I fuck up orders, I drop glasses, and I definitely snap at one too many drunk customers. By the end of the week, everyone is giving me a wide berth, despite the fact that the bar is packed and clearly understaffed.
I can’t get a handle on the emotional turmoil swirling inside of me.
For days, I alternate between regret that I hurt Aiden, anger that he pushed us to a point that he knew would break us, confusion that I hate where we ended up but I don’t hatehim, and just plain… hurt.
It’s that last emotion that fills my chest the most.
I thought I knew what heartache felt like in high school. I thought losing a friend and boyfriend all wrapped in one was the last time I would feel it—it was the reason I first vowed to never get close to anyone again. And yet… that felt like a papercut compared to the gutting that is losing Aiden.
But every time I think about calling him to apologize, to talk through what happened, confusion makes an appearance, and then anger, when I’m reminded of the reasons I didn’t want more than a friends-with-benefits relationship in the first place. Because in reality, nothing has changed. I still don’t want a boyfriend, because I’m still scared shitless that a relationship will take my life in a direction I don’t want to take it. Nothing that happened did anything to weaken that conviction. In a way, things may have actually strengthened it. The fact that I’ve developed feelings for Aidendespitemy reasoning is only fueling the fear that this could blow up in my face if I try to talk to him.
So instead of calling him, I distract myself with the bar, with walking around the city talking pictures of random things, and eventually fumbling through a single photography assignment. Through it all, I hope that the confusing swirl of emotions eventually dwindles and goes away.
It doesn’t. Two weeks later I’m still just as confused, just as hurt as I was that morning.
I decide to visit my parents, feeling unnaturally tense as I walk into the kitchen. My mom gives me a big smile by way of a greeting.
"Hi, honey. I didn't think we'd see you before Sunday dinner. Everything okay?"
Because of course she can tell something’s wrong. Mother’s intuition has never failed anyone. "I'm fine," I answer tightly, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and taking a seat next to her at the breakfast bar. "I'm just… restless. So I thought I'd come by."
Her forehead creases with a frown. "Work?" she asks simply.
My first instinct is to lie and nod, to bury everything I'm feeling even deeper down so I don't have to deal with it, but it only takes one look at Mom's face to decide against that.
"No," I answer instead, my voice cracking on the word.
"Oh, Dani," she says soothingly. She doesn't hug me or offer any affection, knowing I'd just reject it, but her expression softens knowingly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Again, my instinct is to lie and shake it off, but I’m exhausted trying to shake off these feelings. All it’s done is send me into a deeper spiral.