Page 9 of As You Crave It

“I guess we should go.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“We’re not twenty-two anymore, Quin.”

“No, I guess we aren’t.” He paused. He didn’t want to ask the question—wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer. But he asked, anyway. “Really, though, why didn’t you call me when you came to town?”

Celia was quiet for a moment before she spoke. She looked resigned. “Because I couldn’t do it again. You’re the one reason I almost didn’t come back here.”

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. He knew what she meant, but he needed her to say the words. “Couldn’t do what?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she admonished him. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I loved you, Quin. I was in love with you. I know it was eight years ago, but that night I put everything on the line. We might have been drunk, and you probably thought we were just fooling around. But it wasn’t just that for me. There was always more for me, but not for you. And you made that abundantly clear. I wanted too much of you—and that was more than you could give.”

“Okay.” He processed what she’d just told him. He knew he’d screwed up that night. But the fear had stopped him from making what could have been the best decision of his life. And it was the same fear that led him to make the biggest mistake. “I know I hurt you—”

“No, Quin, it wasn’t that you hurt me.” She paused. “Well, I guess you did. But it wasn’t anything you did. I should have expected you to do something like going after those girls. But really, it was who you were. I let myself be hurt by you.”

He nodded, saying nothing. He’d asked for her response, and he could tell that she’d been holding on to it for a long time. He owed her the release.

“I wanted all of you,” she explained. “But there was only so much of you to spread around.”

Of course. It always came down to the childish lifestyle he’d led up until recently. “You’re right. Not a day goes by that I wish I had acted differently.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. It’s probably the alcohol, I guess. Maybe the orgasm...” She laughed “I just need to shut up.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

She sighed. “What do you want me to say? You’ve never been the relationship guy. You’ve always been the guy to call for a good time. All-night clubs, popping bottles, making it rain.” She shook her head and flashed him a pity-filled smile. “You’re never going to settle down. And that’s okay. It’s what you want.” He opened his mouth to counter, to tell her that she was wrong and that he’d changed. But he hadn’t, so he just let her keep going. “But me?” she said. “I need more than that. I always have. And tonight—this was a lot of fun, but you can agree that it shouldn’t have happened, right? Crazy to think that eight years later, and I’m still being rejected by you. You didn’t even want that blow job.”

“I didn’t reject you.”

She acted as if she hadn’t even heard him. “But I am much happier to be your friend now, and that’s it, no matter how much I may have wanted more then.”

Then. Not now. There was nothing Quin could say, and every word was a dagger slicing deeply into his chest. But he couldn’t dispute that they weren’t true. No matter how much he’d tried to fight the reputation he’d built in his twenties. It was his legacy—the party guy. The screwup. “I’m going to go,” she said, standing.

“The sun’s about to rise.” He pointed out at the pink, orange and yellow cresting on the horizon, desperation tinting his voice. He didn’t want her to go yet. She’d talked about being his friend, but he was convinced that if he let her go now, another eight years might pass before he saw her again. “You don’t want to stick around to watch?”

The breeze blew her hair and she held it in a fist over one shoulder, as she took in the new light on the horizon. “No. I’m leaving,” she told him, her voice defiant. “I’m just going to walk. I don’t live far from here.”

Quin nodded and pushed himself up from the sand. “I’ll take you home.”

“No,” she said. “If you take me home, I don’t trust myself to not invite you in.”

“Would that be so bad?” he asked, only half-joking.

“It would be for me,” she said.

“Why?” He tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Because you haven’t unpacked any of your things from the move? I don’t mind a bit of a mess.”

She laughed. “You know that’s not why I can’t invite you in, Quin.”

“Well, that’s your problem because there’s no way I’m letting you walk home alone at this hour.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said. “I have pepper spray in my purse. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m walking you home.”

“Fine,” she said. “If you insist.”

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